At Long Last

So, I'm gonna talk about boobs, now. Anyone who might be offended or uncomfortable with the topic is hereby excused. Feel free to return tomorrow when we may or may not have a more wholesome topic.

I wasn't one of those girls who anxiously awaited my first "real" bra. I was in no hurry to grow up, or for that matter out, and in a brilliant stroke of biological irony, I was a C-cup by eighth grade. As an early bloomer--one who kept right on blooming so that at this point, I have to buy the bras that come in boxes, not the pretty lacy ones that hang on dainty hangers--I never really understood what the fuss was about.

With the exception of the time I spent nursing my four children (which, granted, was a considerable amount of time), I've never really understood what my boobs were for--what purpose they possibly served. Sure, they've earned Hubby's undying affection and puerile admiration, but, I somehow felt that I was failing to use them to their full potential.

I understood that there were other women out there putting theirs to much better use than I was putting mine, but I was at a loss. Help finally came from those friendly folks at Hasbro in the instructions for their game "Upwords:"

And I tried, I really did, but those damned tiles slipped off every single time.