Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Carpe Boob-em!
When I was fourteen, I remember stuffing balloons down my dress to see what it would look like if it wasn't drooping in the boob region. I gazed longingly at the full-busted image of myself in the mirror . Despite the persistent miniature status of my boobage all through high school, I never went so far as to seriously stuff my bra (in public) with socks or Kleenex or something like that -- I was always deathly afraid of an errant tissue making itself known when I least expected it. I figured having a small bust, although mortifying at the time, was still less embarrassing than inadvertently dropping boob-stuffing for all the world to see.
In my early twenties, I continued to bemoan my resemblance to a flea-bitten wall. I am embarrassed to admit that I once went so far as to order stinky cream and "special pills" from the internet. Those women looked so happy... and so full of cleavage. Needless to say, this investment left me with nothing other than boobs that smelled like the vitamin aisle at a health food store. For months after I had given up on the witch doctor's brew, my bras continued to give me an odor of herbal laxatives. (I haven't ever actually smelled an herbal laxative, but I imagine if I did, it would smell like my boob-cream-encrusted bras).
I have been pussy-footing about admitting it, but once, at personal low, I even tried a torturous suction device to amplify my "assets." While I enjoyed the temporary ta-tas, the results were not lasting, and the process was more painful than the emotional trauma caused by a baggy bra.
So here I sit, miles away from being able to hold out hope that puberty might actually set in, and too afraid (and proud?) to go under the Pam Anderson and Jenna Jameson knife. I have finally realized that no matter what I do my boobs will always be bigger or smaller than someone else's. If I am constantly comparing, I will never be happy. With that in mind, I am currently on a quest to embrace my boobs as they are [block out mental chiding about what a small embrace that would be]. In that vein, I have found some things that help me feel at one with my cleavage, or lack there of.
My favorite boob-ego salve (that doesn't even smell like vitamins) is the song "The Boob Fairy" by Deirdre Flint. This clever singer/song-writer makes my small bosom swell with pride. By coming out of the closet with her own less-than-ample rack, Deirdre inspires me to do the same, and even encourages me to sing along with her torch song for the boobies that never really were.
Another thing that gets me feeling more boob-positive, is when I see other women, both media divas and my peers, embrace their natural not-quite-Dolly-Parton-ness. I was inspired recently when I learned that the beautiful Keira Knightley refused to let the movie marketing mavens digitally alter her chest to make it appear larger in publicity photos for the upcoming movie, The Duchess. Apparently, she'd been dissatisfied with her electronically inflated bosom in posters for a prior film.
I know hoards of women who, like me, are members of the itty-bitty-titty committee. Heck, my membership is a birthright; thanks to my mom, I was automatically enrolled. It can be entertaining to commiserate with petite peers, but they also inspire me. When I see them looking super hot despite the lack of ample perkiness spewing forth from beneath their collar bones, I feel all warm and tingly inside.
While I admit to being, at times, a small-breasted woman undercover (the cover being push-up, ultra padded, chicken fillet-ness), it has recently come to my attention that there are other ways to go about accessorizing my small chest that might be more enjoyable. Designers are finally getting hip to the fact that not everyone is equally endowed, and new designs reflect this. Lula Lu offers a wide variety of bras and undergarments that aren't so... wide. This cute shop, which happens to have its brick and mortar home practically right in my backyard, sells delightful and, dare I say, sexy lingerie geared specifically toward the multitude of women who have a handful or less [ignore that little voice in my head chanting: "Two! Two! Two boobs for the size of one!].
I checked out Lula Lu's website, and I was thrilled to see all sorts of fabulous stuff that looked really sexy on their petite models. I even learned what a bralette is.
Wow. I have to say that I am feeling better already. I am all boobed up and ready to go! Let's see, first load the car with a gaggle of my fair, flat-chested friends, then sing-along proudly to Deirdre Flint whilst on our way to a shopping spree at Lula Lu, followed by a screening of The Duchess! Go, boobs! it's your boobday! Now if only I could figure out what to do about my ass...
Labels: body image, boobs, clothing, hero, rant
tidbit posted by Mosa @ 11:22 AM
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Cut and Pasties
Wow! That's crafty! Thanks to Audacia Ray, I have a new project in the works, and just in time for Halloween. In addition to schooling me about a wide variety of pre-made pasties readily available for purchase, Audacia introduced me to a site with complete instructions for do-it-yourself pasties! Now that sounds like a craft project the whole family can enjoy together! Thanks, Audacia. Now can you tell me where to get the boobs? Is there a DYI option?Labels: body image, boobs, clothing
tidbit posted by Mosa @ 6:03 PM
Monday, September 8, 2008
Mud Slinger
Once again my friend May has got me dressed in style. Thanks to her tireless research, and discerning taste, I am now a fan of Mudflap Boy. This cool company dug up the long lost brother of the shiny, silver chick who has been adorning the mudflaps of truckers for years, and guess what? He's a hottie, and they've plastered his nude silhouette all over teeshirts, and belt buckles and even trucker hats.
Most men are fairly unabashed about brandishing their appreciation of the female form. Why not share the love? If a man can make an altar to a curvy goddess on the strips of black rubber that live behind his rear tires, why shouldn't I wear my love of the male form across my bosom? What better way to pay tribute to the penis-bearers? I mean, I don't know many women who get their jollies hanging out on the back of a mudflap, but what guy wouldn't be happy to be pressed firmly against a woman's breast or sit just below her bellybutton?
I am now ready to face the world in my new man-loving regalia. Thanks, May. I'd be naked without you.Labels: clothing, review
tidbit posted by Mosa @ 10:24 AM
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Lashings and Lace
My friend May had on the coolest shirt the other day. It was a lovely shade of pink, and hidden amongst the beautifully embroidered flowers that caressed her collarbone were the the words (in delicate cursive) "I Like it rough."
May pointed me to the designer of her shirt in hopes that I might find a treasure of my own. Boy, did I! Nicole Locher has perfectly combined naughty and nice. Each of her elegantly embroidered designs contains subtle little messages like, "Will Fuck for Shoes," and "Petite Salope," which I just learned means, "Little slut," in French. I love learning new languages!
In addition to the glee I feel wearing something delightfully beautiful that happens to say something nasty, I am also thankful to Ms. Locher for helping me with my language skills. With her shirts I can now announce when I am "sans culotte" or without panties. Shucks! Speaking French makes me feel like such a high class dame. Oui oui and ooo la la!Labels: clothing, review
tidbit posted by Mosa @ 6:11 PM
advertisements
archives
