Monday, April 26

The Mammary Memos

What a weekend.

I feel like I just got off a ride from a convertible topped train.

Completely frazzled.

Matt’s play was this weekend, and it went great. There were cast parties, and rehearsals for our daughters’ play, and there were supposed to be 2 baseball games.

But they got rained out. (Which was great. Matt was really heartsick that he couldn’t come to Tim’s first 2 games because of the show. I have been praying for a week that the games would get rained out. And very much like God, the skies held their own until 15 minutes before we were supposed to be at the ball park. Then the skies opened up with such a dramatic display that it took my breath away! And the game was cancelled just in time! He is seldom early, but always right on time.)

And after going on 4 hours of sleep Saturday, I was a little exhausted. And frazzled. And PMSey. So I had a slight panic attack on Saturday evening. Those things are no fun. And then I was supposed to go to a cast party and act like I had it all together. Which I don’t. But I tried.

The first hour was hit and miss. There were lots of people there, and I tried to go to the rooms that had the least amount of people in them until I relaxed. Finally I got settled down and it was right about the time a group of girls ended up in the kitchen.

(Now I have SWORN that I would not use names in this story, to protect the not-so-innocent. So this conversation I am about to share will be in one long run on quoted statement. Therefore you get the full flavor of the story without incriminating any of the women who said the statements.)

“My costume tonight made me look like I was all boobs.

Really? I thought you were all boobs!

Yeah, you look like you are pretty busty.

(Realizing that 4 out of the 5 women currently in the kitchen are a DD cup and over. One girl is a B. )

Wow. We all have the girls. You know what I hate? When you go to sleep and you have to spread them apart to sleep on your stomach.

Yes, we are all united by the big blue vein.”

(If you have big girls and fair skin, then you know exactly what I am talking about)


For a half of an hour, we discussed the pros and cons (mostly cons) of being blessed, boob and bra horror stories, and what living with big jugs is really like.

Shucks, I think we did Dolly Parton proud.

Fellows wandered in and out of the kitchen. My husband was in there laughing quite a bit because he lives with me. This is all stuff he has heard before. And he was able to both qualify the information, and figure out that I am not the only one who talks like this.

We talked about gravity, boys’ reactions to big girls, the fact if you go to the store without a bra on people think you are just fat because when they hang- they lay on your tummy.

We talked about a lot about bras because there are a lot of them that give us busty girls 4boob, superboob, or saggy boobs.

And the one B cup in the room talked about the fact she never gets “headlights” because her bras are mostly foam.

To which one of the big busty ladies in the room yelled “BUT AT LEAST you can buy bras at Victoria Secrets!”

And with that, an entire room full of girls yelled in unison “YEAH!!!!” cause none of us can.

What amazes me is that regardless of the issue we can discuss, every woman has insecurities about something. Each woman had frustrations boon from her body. There were skinny girls, big girls, and medium girls. And each one of us there has something that makes her feel “less than,” even though she has “more than” to someone else.

I wish I could tell you that we solved all the worlds’ problems with busts right then and there.

Instead, we decided we would write a show about it. And we WILL call it the Mammary Memos.

Because women feel empowered by talking about their issues. We don’t need to solve them. We just need to emotionalize about them. To hear for ourselves that we are not alone in our struggle to adjust. (Which means bending over, shaking and stuffing, as one brave soul displayed in the kitchen, which put us under with laughter.) We feel better if we TALK about it.

Which is why I love this blog so darn much. It gives me the opportunity to be a real woman, not one who is trying to achieve perfection. Nope, I just get to achieve being me. And that is a great feeling. Because me, even though I am neurotic, less than graceful, and a complete and utter mystery (especially to Matt- and sometimes even myself) is pretty awesome.

Not that I am a fantastic person, because I am not. I make mistakes, lose my temper and make a fool out of myself on a regular basis. But the idea that I am free to be me is pretty wonderful.

Something we are not taught in magazines or on TV. It’s a state we grow into, eventually realizing that we all can’t be the glamorous Jolees and Bullocks. There are some Phyllis Dillers and Betty Whites thrown in there. And when we get in the zone, we can change the entire dynamic of what fabulousness really is.

Or in my case, Flabulousness. How can you be fabulous today?


Rachel @ CrazyTown said...

I totally could have been part of that conversation!!

Thank you for the reminder that I need to just be me, imperfections and all. I don't have it all together all the time and why pretend to.

Oh, and I can be fabulous today by doing a stinkin workout to make me feel better!

Anonymous said...

LOL!!! Me too, Rachel! Uber-boobage may be a wistful dream to a young girl, but dang it stinks when you actually have to live with it!

Thanks Charlie, for the Monday Morning Grin!

Autumn Mist said...

This is such a good post, Charlie, and one we can all identify with, no matter how 'large our assets'! I was born to ride horses, so I'm pleased to be flat chested, a gift from God, I think!

Mary @ Giving Up On Perfect said...

Are you really going to write a show? I'd love to see that!

I have the opposite problem you have. Even though the rest of me is big, the girls are not. It's not fair, and I hate it. The end.

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