graceland's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A night out with my boobs Ran out today with an hour to spare to find a dress for a wedding at the Naval Academy on LI. I bought $800 of clothes, not hard to do in NYC, particularly when you buy a bright pink Max Azria spring coat. I haven't bought a spring coat since 1994, it was justified. I bought this dress that is unlike what I normally wear, short hemline, empire waist and low v-neck. Floaty and a lot of boob. I spent a while trying to pin a flower to it to make it PG-rated. My boobs are obnoxious. I almost always buy clothes that hide the boobs because the alternative is that everyone spends a night talking to my boobs. It's par of the course. My boobs are like an event. When they are exposed, it's almost like a Pavlovian experiment. Men who would never speak to me, of all ages, races and creeds, try to spend time with them. It's pathetic. Sometimes I throw them out there for shits and giggles. No one is immune - family, women, children. Those people will actually acknowledge it. My mom says my boobs are like cantelopes. My girl friends ask to feel them. They are their own entity. So I wore the dress. People talked to my boobs. One guy took my boob's hand and made me get out on the dance floor. Another guy waved across the reception room to them during dinner. My boobs and I went out in Manhattan after the wedding, still in the dress. My bartender friend couldn't even talk to me, I guess he knew he'd be talking to them. My other friend put it out there that she couldn't stop looking at my boobs and when I said I hadn't noticed, she then documented everytime during our conversation that she snuck a glance. "I can't help it," she said, "I'm talking to your face and then I am staring at your boobs." "I know," I said. "It's happened all my life. I'm used to it." She was amazed that they don't sag, and we pondered what they are going to look like when I am pregnant. They are going to be insane. I am afraid. A girl who looked like J-Lo tried to pick me up. She told the bartender that I am her favorite lover. He asked her my name. She tried to ask me my name, whispering in my ear and started rubbing her lips on my neck. I smiled and moved away. Later J-lo came back and started rubbing my back, I had to leave the bar. Not in the mood to play the NYC game. I have period boobs right now. It's pretty obnoxious of me to put them on display. My regular boobs are enough, my period boobs can make satisfied women throw doubt on their own endowdments, or so I've been told. I decided to take my boobs home. I'm OTR and really not in the mood to have them manhandled. And I have a lot of great new clothes. 2:27 a.m. - 2004-05-16 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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