The holiday weekend is over. Take a deep breath…slowly…slowly…now let it out. Shake it off. You survived.

If you’re anything like me and holidays have become more about loss than immediate satisfaction, you’ll find yourself doing this. You dread the approaching day, manage to muddle through it by distracting yourself with this or that, and the morning after have to clear your mind, shake it off, and force yourself forward and away from the memory. I try to remember that today is better than yesterday, but not half as good as tomorrow. I will it.

I did a pretty good job of distracting myself yesterday. I slacked off, spent nearly the whole day online emailing and surfing blogs, cracked open a beer to take off the edge, and bought myself a darling, summer dress off Ebay. The dress before the $3.60 shipping was only $5.50! “Yay, for me! I love bargains! I love sundresses cause I can go commando if I want! 🙂

I love a bargain. I truly feel guilty if I have to pay full price for anything other than undergarments, socks, leather, and Harley attire. Seriously. I have like an issue with it, or something. Anyway, so I was really excited about this find, apparently more than a bit distracted by the price, and didn’t notice till AFTER I purchased it that it had spaghetti-straps. How in the hell did I miss that? No, really! Not that I never have or won’t wear them, but if I can help it, no. I like to know what my ‘girls’ are doing at all times. I find only a good, stable bra makes a dependable babysitter. When you wear spaghetti-straps you have only two decent options: Strapless bra, or no bra. Cutting through all the crap it’s a toss up between not the best idea and a very bad one!

This decision is more about common sense and has little if anything to do with insecurity. I mean I know it’s considered socially acceptable nowadays to wear a string-bikini in your ninth month of pregnancy, but that don’t make it right either. Good for you that you’re so secure with your body. I personally don’t think a distended belly that looks like the cork is about to blow is attractive. For God’s sake, cover that shit up! Just because you’re secure and willing to do it, don’t make it pretty. Likewise, a thong sticking out the back of your jeans or a crop-shirt exposing your muffin-top doesn’t make you look sexy…and I don’t care how damn young you are!  When did we stop trying to accentuate our positive features and playing down our flaws? It was working people! If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!

I personally had seen a lot of disturbing shit years ago that cemented my opinion on certain things. Remember Lycra Spandex when it was all the rage? Clingy leotards? That’s great when you’re like what…twelve? These items are very unforgiving if you’re anything less than absolutely perfect. Did any of us ‘real’ people know anyone like that? I didn’t. Amazingly though there were many people around me that either didn’t realize this, or didn’t care. What…no one had a full-length mirror but me? I was constantly running into women out in public who’d crammed themselves into this attire and distracted my shopping. It looked like they’d pulled up their panties in a hurry and forgot to re-adjust shit. Like it was no longer one sad ass unmercifully stretching this thin material like jello pumped into a balloon, but rather two. One morphing off the other. And leotards…. Oh the horror!

Going bra-less with leotards can only be pulled off if you’re an A-cup, had a boob-job, or younger than 19. The jury didn’t take long to decide this before the verdict was in. Case closed. It’s a done deal! No one needs to see your saggy tits and shouldn’t have to. In my opinion, there is little worse than running into someone you know who wants to stand and gab for a bit about old times, whose ‘girls’ have crazy eyes that look everywhere but where they’re supposed to. One is peering down at the cracks in the floor and the other is trying to read advertisements on the shelves. It’s like trying to have a discussion with a person who has a lazy eye. You can’t look away. I swear! You want to, you try to, but it’s nearly impossible. You don’t want to make them feel insecure and uncomfortable, but you literally can’t help yourself! It’s freaking maddening! Not me.

I don’t mind taking this old jalopy out occasionally, and can still spruce her up for the ride, but I make damn sure that the boob-police never pull me over for a broken headlight. I am more than aware what works for me and doesn’t. I take care of my bad-self! That being said I wasn’t as frugal as I thought, and now have to cough up some serious cash for a good, strapless bra. Do you ever feel like you’re having a ass-backwards day?

7 thoughts on “Boob-Police

  1. OR…you could buy a pretty bra that matches the sundress, and wear that underneath, as long as THAT isn’t hanging out everywhere, it is totally acceptable to have two sets of straps showing, especially if they are pretty 🙂 Or is that is just a Canadian thing??? 🙂

  2. Lord your commenters are just as funny as the post – I’ve been chuckling away like I’ve lost the plot!
    For the last year, starting with being recently single again I found holidays a nightmare. Seemed that everywhere you went there were couples and happy families and between the holidays was all the hype about the next one coming. Hated it. Funny thing is that I’m not working but you still feel as if the holidays are well, holidays and you should be doing something different. This Easter was the first that I felt OK that I wasn’t doing anything in particular and was going to be on my own mostly. Big tick. not sure why exactly but I know it is progress.
    As for ebay – I think my daughter secretly owns it but don’t let on. Could be her dress you’ve bought…

  3. I like bras. I have a collection. But I don’t actually need them. I wear them for the “Art of Underwear”. They’re pretty. Snuggly, even…it’s like having a pair of warm hands that you trust, gently cupping your girls all day. And added warmth in winter.

    I agree on the good riddance to the ‘spandex’ craze…you could see the thunder strike cellulite with every pounding step these people took across the parking lot. I found my eyes nervously darting up at the clouds, wondering when God would strike one of us down. Them for wrongful dress. Me for wrongful thoughts about what should be done to punish them.

    1. Here-Here! And I like bra’s too! I can’t say that I don’t let em’ spill out a little while I’m riding–I like to keep em’ guessing whether I’m a good or bad–but these girls can get ‘waaay’ out of hand if I let them and have to keep them somewhat corralled.

  4. I’m still giggling at your “broken headlight” statement.

    I feel like more of my days are of the ass-backwards variety than not! I’ll have you know, though, that’s not for fear of the boob police.

    Tidiness police, OTOH? Those I live in fear of!

    1. It’s not so much the boob-police I fear either. It’s policing other boobs! I managed a biker bar, and I gotta tell you I saw some of their boobs more than I did my own. There’s just something not right about that, Deb!

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