~Peek-a-boo!~

So, I was going to write a post titled, "Freako Suave and Mother Cerveza". It was going to be about my ex-husband who is getting ready to enter into a polygamous marriage with two totally hot chics.

But then I reminded myself that, "No! I do not write gossip at my blog!" and I decide to write about something else instead. (Though the Mother Cerveza things still holds true, as I have downed a few cerveza's this evening.)

First, I would like to entertain you with a few photo's of toys that my children own. (the peek a boo thing should be apparent; and so should the reason that my boys wake screaming in the middle of the night.)





Second, I am going to share a story with you that made my (current)husband say, "That's a pretty lesbian thing to do Deb."

An undisclosed woman arrived at my house (let's call her "mare") with her buddy (let's call her "wanda") and this conversation came up:

Me: Do you work out? Because, your arms are fabulous."
Wanda: No I do not, but people ask me that often.
Mare: Your arms are great, what size of bra do you wear?
Wanda: 38 C
Me: No way, I am a 38C, and I do not have a rack like that.
Mare: I am also a 38C
Me: There is no fucking way that we have the same size of tits.
Wanda: What kind of bra are you wearing?
Me: Victoria Secrets Ipex, and I got measured for it, so I know it is right.
Mare: Me too!
Wanda: I am wearing the Ipex also.
Me: No fucking way.
Mare: Look! (shows tag of pink bra.)
Me: Dude, check this out (shows tag of tan bra)
Wanda: (shows Ipex tag of black bra.)
Me: Okay, but--did you guys get fitted, cause there is no way that we are all the same size.

After that conversation, we went to the bathroom and stood in the mirror with a full frontal view of each of us.

And holy shit.

38C may be the right measurement for all of us, but we do not look the same. I assumed that when you were fitted for a bra that meant that your boobs looked exactly like everyone else with your size.

But no.

I felt like I had been transported back to the eight grade scoliosis test and I was the only girl in line who didn't need a bra. (Obviously we had this conversation after the pillow fight, but before the tickle war.)

My beloved thinks that ladies comparing tits is questionable, but as for me? Nah. Mare take tasteful nudes and has seen hundreds of areola. Wanda and Mare have been buddies since the third grade. I had no desire to cup or touch any of the breasts exposed.

I did have a desire to drink another beer and that night I reminded myself of the cardinal rule, "Must not drink then blog."

Tonight? Still not moved by breasts, but I am ignoring the cardinal rule.