My nipple smells funny, my friend is an idiot, and Flashdance gives me flashbacks

I have always had big boobs.  Part of me is thankful for my “girls”, but having massive mammaries has it’s problems.  Particularly if they start to blossom before Junior High.  An eleven-year-old in the 1970s had no desire to wear a bra–especially the stretchy, beige, utilitarian number my mother picked out for me.  I think it was made from leftover girdle material.  Horrible thing.  It was ugly even by seventies standards.

It felt like the whole world could see my ugly bra.

Generous sweater puppets proved to be an asset in High School.  Unless you happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  I have always been a little person.  Only five feet tall.  And in grade ten, I had barely hit the hundred pound mark.  And most of it was boob.  My best friend, however, had ten inches on me and several pounds.

This is not what I mean by “sweater puppets.”

My wardrobe selection on that fateful day is important to note.  I donned my brand new, cashmere-like (my bank account was not in proportion to the size of my boobs), sweater–the kind with a steep V in the back and front that balanced precariously on the shoulders. Also the kind that you can’t wear a bra with because the straps would show.  And let’s be totally honest, there has never been a strapless bra that screamed out “Wear me.  I’m comfortable.”  My girls went commando.

Imagine this sweater is black and fuzzy. Damn sweater.

Now, my tall, full-figured friend also chose this day to debut a new article of clothing.  High heels.  Hitherto, she had never graced anything higher than the sole of her Adidas.  And she wasn’t a quick learner.

When choosing friends, height is an important and often overlooked consideration.

The bell rang, motioning the ant-like throng of pastel and argyle-wearing (it was the early 80s) teenagers to head to the next class.  Me in my sexy sweater.  My friend in her sexy heels.  Then it happened.  My 5’10” friend lost her balance and in her struggle to remain vertical, she reached for the nearest object–me.  In a split second, my new sweater lost its precarious grasp of my shoulders and, thanks to the gaping back and neckline, fell to my midriff.  The girls got their first glimpse of the general public.  And vice versa.

Needless to say, it took quite a while to live that one down.  But, thankfully, the next year someone lost their cheerleading underwear (yes, there is such a thing) in the middle of the football field.  My boobs were relegated a distant memory as her snatch catapulted to stardom.  Pantiless trumps braless every time.

When I stand too long, my nipple hurts.

1)  Okay.  Chandler Bing had his nubbin.  Zac Efron, Mark Wahlberg, and Lilly Allen have third nipples too.  This condition known as supernumerary breast tissue usually occurs along the “milk lines” of the body.  You know–in the boob-al region.

It has been recently discovered, however, that a 22-year-old Brazilian woman actually possesses a third nipple of her foot.  A condition that I call Nipple Foot.  Apparently, this misplaced nipple has been there since birth and doesn’t cause the woman any pain at all.

Talk about a conversation starter.  “Wanna see my nipple? Just a sec.  I’ve got  to take off my socks.”

2)  Any avid Seinfeld fan will remember Frank & Kramer’s business venture into male undergarments with the “Bro” or “Manziere.”  It turns out, they may have been on to something.

Meet Guo Qingpo, a 53-year-old Chinese man who has been cursed with giant moobs (a.k.a. man boobs).  After consulting with over 20 specialists, he was diagnosed with lipodystrophy syndrome, a condition that leads to uneven distribution of fatty deposits.  While most men would welcome the depositing of said fat in their zipper region, few would celebrate the onset of breasts.  No matter how much they initially enjoy playing with them.

Thankfully, Guo has successfully had his hooters removed and has been reunited with his pecs once again.

3)  I totally blame Flashdance for my brief dalliance into exhibitionism.  Damn those oddly shaped sweatshirts and the inevitable consequences to the fashion world.  It does, however, securely place my most embarrassing teenage moment (the adult ones have been much worse) in the year 1983.

While I was bearing my breasts, the most popular song was Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic by the Police, the highest rated TV show was Dallas starring the recently deceased Larry Hagman, and the number one movie was one of my all-time favourites, The Christmas Story–a movie that, befittingly, showcased another body part.  The leg.  In the form of a lamp.  And en masse, people were naming their children Jennifer or Michael.

I loved the 80s.

Here’s a boob-bearing clip from Montreal’s Just For Laughs Gags.  

Photo credits:  Huge bra in street (, sweater puppets (, dangerous sweater (, Mutt and Jeff (, made you look ( Nipple Foot ( moobs (

The Top Banana, The Monikers, and A Strange Phobia

“I wonder if illiterate people get the full effect of alphabet soup.”  Jerry Seinfeld.  

I will never grasp evolution.  The idea that mankind is simply a single-celled organism that decided to evolve into something else and so on sounds bizarre to me.  I don’t believe that I have any amoebas in my family  tree…although some of us do appear to function on a single brain cell.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  I have nothing against amoebas.  I just don’t see how one can sprout arms and legs and a beard, no matter how many billions of years you give them.

I do admit that apes do have human-like qualities.  Some apes are smarter than some humans, in fact.  And some humans are hairier.  But if man evolved from apes, why are there still apes?  Were those ones too stupid to evolve?

Darwin and his cohorts would have me believe that there was a huge explosion in the blackness that is space.  This explosion supposedly came from nothing.  From that, the universe was created and life appeared on earth–simple life like plankton.  And over millions of years, this plankton turned into all the different species we have today–kangaroos, lizards, elephants, and man.  This sounds awfully random.  And, again, why is there still plankton?

I think it is much easier to believe that we were designed and created by someone who has an endless imagination, masterful artistry skills, and a much firmer grasp on “science” than any human could ever imagine.  I did not “evolve.”  I was created by God.

Of course, I’d love to hear your comments on my little early morning rant. lol.

1) The banana is a neat fruit–it comes with it’s own easy-to-peel packaging, eating one before bed is supposed to help you sleep, and they are just plain funny looking.  And they taste good.

Plus, they come with a built-in practical joke maker…a sticker.  I love affixing it to someone’s forehead and then, distracting them until they forget it’s there.  If you’re really good, your victim will go out in public with the banana sticker smack dab between the eyes.

The best stickers were the face stickers put out by Chiquita a few years ago.  My hubby and I collected them–yes, we selected our bananas based on what faces they wore.  Sometimes, we would take faces off other bunches and come away with a sticker on each yellow fruit.  Those were the days.  I know…it doesn’t take much to make me happy. lol.

If you are a banana fanatic, you may want to visit Mecca, California–home to The International Banana Club Museum, the world’s largest museum dedicated to bananas.  Since it’s creation in 1976, it has collected over 17,000 banana “artifacts” including a banana couch, a Michael Jackson banana, musical bananas, and more.  What the heck is a banana warmer?  The museum also claims that no lewd or crude bananas are allowed–except they spelled lewd “lude.”  This spelling mistake drove me bananas.

2)  A little while ago, we learned that the most common names in 1912 were John and Mary.  So, I wonder what Americans were naming their babies in the 1950s.  Fonzie or Richie?  Laverne or Shirley?

Nope.  According the to U.S. Social Security Administration, the favourite boy’s name of the decade was James, with Michael being the runner-up.  The winning girl’s name was Mary (which was also the leading name in 1912), with Linda coming in second.

3)  I recently encountered a fact that is funny, but a little sadistic.  Lots of people have phobias–some of them are understandable like the fear of snakes or heights.  I like snakes, but I can see how some people would find them unnerving.  I’m not a fan of heights.  It’s a good thing I’m short.  I stood on a stool once to see what it felt like to be my husband’s height and I got nauseated.

Some phobias, however, are a wee bit on the strange side.  For example,  arachibutyrophobia is the fear of peanut butter becoming stuck to the roof of one’s mouth.  I could see this being problematic for people without hands or tongues, but why would they put peanut butter on the roof of their mouths, anyway.  Euphobia is the fear of good news.  My head just exploded.  Seriously, you hate “good” news?  This is not someone that I want to spend a lot of time with–talk about a downer.

This brings me to the sadistic.  Imagine that your phobia is a fear of long words.  Now imagine that someone has asked you what your phobia is called and rather than answering the question you have run out of the room screaming.  Why?  Because some sadistic bastard with a sick sense of humour named your phobia “hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia.”  Nice, eh?