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 (

A giant boot, A guy called Foot, And the One-Armed One-Legged Man

There is something that has disturbed me for years and I can no longer be silent.  Why do so many articles of clothing wind up in the middle of the road?  Seriously.  In the last week, I have encountered what looked like a pink skirt, a brown glove (especially strange in JULY), a sock, and several lone shoes.

Why do people feel the need to peel off their clothing and throw it into the street?  Okay, if I was wearing brown gloves in thirty degrees Celsius, I would shed the gloves too.  But why would I be wearing them in the first place?  And why was there only one glove?  Perhaps, it belonged to a one-armed man that gets really cold in the morning.  Maybe he also had only one foot, which would explain the whole one shoe thing.  But why so many single shoes spread out over such a large area at different times?  Do one-footed people make up a larger part of the population than I thought?  And why do they keep losing their shoes?

The skirt had me really puzzled.  To me it indicated that someone had been driving down that very street naked.  Which leads me to wonder if nudists drive nude?  Or would they stick to the pleather?

If you have ever felt the urge to rip off your clothes and throw them out your car window, I want to hear from you.  I want you to make me understand what compels a sane person (assuming that you fit this category) to abandon one shoe or glove on the yellow line.  Are people driving so fast that their clothes simply fall off?  Inquiring minds want to know.

1)  This made me sad.  The world’s largest shoe tree (not the kind you use to stretch your shoes, but a tree that many people have–for some reason–hung their footwear from) once proudly stood 125 miles east of Reno, Nevada.  This cottonwood tree had reason to be proud.  It had become a quirky destination for lovers of oddball roadside attractions.

And, then, some disturbed individual(s)–perhaps, envious of its many shoes–chopped the tree down.  According to authorities, a fresh pool of sawdust was found at the scene next to the victim.

This story made me feel sad for several reasons.  First of all the cottonwood didn’t ask to become a “Shoe Tree.”  It’s fame–like the shoes–was foisted upon it.  Second, it was a cool piece of Americana.  And, third–loads of people sacrificed their Nikes to make this piece of art–only to have it cut down in its prime.  Worst of all, it just goes to show that someone always has to spoil the fun for everyone else.

I hope the perpetrator(s) suffer corns and bunions for the rest of their days.

2)  In Canada, we have a winter boot company called Sorel.  And one of Sorel’s models is called the Glacier and is designed for weather as cold as minus 100.  Seriously.  (Unlike the stereotypes, we do not experience anywhere near -100 anywhere other than the North Pole.  While no country actually can lay claim to the “physical North Pole,” the “magnetic” North Pole is in Canada.  Does this mean Santa Claus is Canadian?” )

Anyway, these honkin’ massive boots are available in a men’s size 17.  Yup–size seven PLUS ten.  Those are big feet–even by North American standards.  I have always wondered what the overseas manufacturers think when they make a behemoth pair of boots. “Holy Crap!  Canadians are giants.”

According to the American Academy of Orthopaedic Surgeons, the average shoe size for an American man is 10.5, while the female average is 9.  Meanwhile, according to a website that specializes in helping Westerners who live and work in China, many have had difficulty finding footwear larger than a man’s size 9 or a woman’s size 7.5.  It seems we are a gigantic race.

Enormous puffy black winter boots in a whopping size SEVENTEEN would, without a doubt, cause quite a stir in downtown Beijing.  Heck, I would be fascinated by them and my husband has size 13s.

3)  I wonder what it’s like to have a last name like Boot.  Or Foot.  Especially with the first name Harry.  I imagine Harry Foot would look like the guy pictured here.

According to the U.S. 2000 census, there are 449 people with the last name Foot, 16093 with the “e” to make Foote, 701 Boot’s, 297 Boote’s, 946 with the surname Shoe, 274 Sandal people, 614 with the name Sandall, 212 people who go by Toe, 292 people called Sock, and 264 people named Pump.  So, if one of the 179 people named Jam married one of the Toe people and hyphenated their name–EW–Toe-Jam.  I apologize if your last name is any of the above.  But if there is anyone out there who chose to go by Toe-Jam, what were you thinking?

Now, back to the whole abandoned clothing in the road thing.  If I owned these articles of clothing, I would not only throw them out my car window, I would drive over them several times.

Photo Credits:  Shoe Tree(,  clown sweater (, white clingy top (, beard hat (, Uma Thurman disaster (, short overalls ( straw sipper with ugly sweater (, Hawaiin explosion (