I am unsure of how many men read my blog so I want to start by apologizing in advance. This post is girl biased. I lived for years with the shame of having way too much sand for my sandbags. I have never(not once in my lifetime) ever enjoyed shopping for a bra. The Trish of old would safety pin, glue, sew; hell, if I could’ve fixed a favorite bra with a staple gun I would have been the girl to give it a try =  )  It is difficult for me to feel comfortable about my breasts. Most women have a hate/love relationship over it. Over the years I’ve settled for; if they behave I will be happy. C’mon you know what I mean about behaving. Stay in your cups, no sneaking out.

Some bras push your kibbles and bits sooooo close together you look like you are hiding your unborn Siamese twin. Some are great in the support arena even if they snap you into an unnatural posture. Others are not intended for large full loads but I will admit I bought you because you looked pretty. Even I can be drawn in by false beauty, DAMN! My favorite unfavorite is the underwire. I mean really, you would think that by name alone it would do as it implies and STAY under your breasts to lift and separate. LIES!!! The wire tends to slide back and forth like a bow across a fiddle, poking you in the armpit randomly causing just enough discomfort to make you grit your teeth while trying to accomplish the simplest every day tasks like breathing.

I have come to the part of this journey where my old tried and trues no longer do their job. I have lost enough back fat to necessitate a newer smaller set of cups and spoons. Time for the dreaded(ful) bra fitting. I am not a hugger by nature so you can just imagine how uncomfortable I feel whilst another woman comes at me with a tape measure and a look of disbelief or horror, yes, it could be horror I see there. (I am afraid to ask)! I can not tell you how happy I am that I am on the last set of hooks instead of stretching the first set almost free from its anchored slots. After weigh-in tomorrow morning I plan on putting on my bravest smile, tame my fears and head to Lady Grace.  I am ready to (be groped and prodded) fitted for new, flattering, well-fitting friends . Never let it be said that I am not brave enough to face my demons head on.

I grew these beauties myself. I try to take good care of them( I still wash them by hand every day!). Be kind to yourself. Buy some new gear! Never Give Up On The Person You Are Meant To Be!


It is a Friday night near the end of February. I am in a hotel room in the pouring rain. I am tired and I just want to go home but I can’t. I am at a gaming convention. I don’t know if you understand what that is but I can tell you that for me IT IS HELL. I don’t begrudge another living soul their happy hour but if this is all you got my heart goes out to you, seriously.

Imagine a football sized playing field packed to the gills with oversized 10 years old trapped in forty year old bodies; and yes, I am being polite. Tables and chairs are strewn throughout the room. Dice are rolled, cards are shuffled, board games and minis fill the room. The person to person chatter sounds like a low pulsing buzz that rises and falls as the excitement in the room spills over the crowd in waves. A roll of the dice from the table in the corner is drowned out by a nearby round of laughter.  All activity in the room is connected and uniquely separate at the same time. People tell me that physics is hard, yeah try a convention.

Bad hair, bad teeth, bad manners, BAD HYGIENE. C’mon people you can just do better than this. Soap and water is plentiful and cheap. Go get yourself some. I like for a person to look me in the eye or at least the general vicinity of my face whilst we are conversing. My breasts can not hear a word that you are saying so for God’s sake, look UP.

I am sorry that you don’t get to interact with members of the opposite sex as much as you’d like to but if you left your parents basement once in awhile you might actually meet someone.

I know. I know I am being unfair but I did tell you I was tired. I am not a gamer;  I married one. Sad story of my life. You can not tell your heart who to love. I love my hubby just not his hobbies. A convention of any type is a great merchandising ploy with the multipurpose of getting like minded people to intermingle, provide entertainment, exchange ideas and ensure a steady cash flow to vendors that sponsor said conventions. Ask yourselves where would a pro sport be without the merchandising? or Harry Potter?