Wednesday, Jan. 12, 2005 - 5:00 P.M.

In Gretchen Wilson’s song, “Redneck Woman” she sings ---“Victoria’s Secret; their stuff’s real nice but I can buy the same damn thing on a Wal-Mart shelf half price.”---this is somewhat true, however, I have purchased bras from Wal-Mart in the past and not one of them has ever made my girls ride up so high and proud as do the Body By Victoria bras from Victoria’s Secret. They are sitting up and taking notice, I tell you. Seriously, if these jokers get pushed up any higher my neck will have nipples. Suck it, gravity! I’m taking an anonymous internet post of the twins (in the bra, let’s not get carried away) into consideration. They truly look that good today.

And speaking of breasts…as I’ve mentioned here before, my mother and grandmother both died of breast cancer. I’ve given serious thought to preventative mastectomy so as to try and avoid the same fate. I once went to a spa to have a massage. The full body kind. Here we are, the masseuse and I, in this softly lit room with scented candles throwing dancing light to the walls and soothing Enya-like music filling the silence. I had just about achieved complete and total relaxation complete with drool when she starts asking me questions. “How are your menstrual cramps?” “Do you drink water to release the toxins in your body?” “When you are stressed do you feel it in your teeth?” (Yeah, I don’t know what that’s about either.)

We get around to families and medical history and breast cancer comes up and she tells me what I (at first) believe to be a very inspiring survival story (her own). And, really, it is certainly inspiring and glorious when anyone beats the evil and dreaded c-word. However, her story involved a witch, spider eggs and a blind shaman. It’s too long to go into but the gist of it best I can remember is that she was introduced to a witch who used all manner of things to heal the body. After the witch was done with the body you were sent to a blind shaman to heal the spirit. Whatever. How much you wanna bet the “witch” and the “shaman” were “Ethel” and “Buddy” from the VFW out to scam a few bucks. At any rate their mojo obviously didn’t take because (thankfully!) real doctors performed a radical mastectomy and subsequent reconstructive surgery and she had been cancer free for some odd years. One thing I’ve found in life is that women who have either had reconstructive breast surgery, augmentation or reduction have no problem whipping those puppies out for other women to see and feel.

I mean, she asked me to feel her boobs. This woman who I’ve known for approximately 55 minutes asked me to feel her boobs. Not only asks me, practically commands me. While she’s holding her shirt open and her bra up.

What was a gal to do?

You Give Me Fervor - Friday, Feb. 17, 2006
Revamped Sex Camp - Thursday, Jan. 26, 2006
I'm Not Dead - Tuesday, Jan. 10, 2006
Ebert And Roeper? Watch Your Backs. - Tuesday, Nov. 29, 2005
Coffee? Tea? Map? - Monday, Nov. 07, 2005

© Purplecigar

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