Yesterday, within the span of two hours I heard that two different women that I know (totally unrelated) have opted to get breast enhancement surgery. To be honest, these are probably the first women that I’ve ever actually known who have opted for the knife.
Now, I’m not here to judge anyone but, being the loudmouthed, outspoken advocate of Tiny Titties that I am, I can’t help but at least put in my two cents.
The last time I can remember truly lamenting the small nature of my rack I was in middle school. It was torture as the cool girls sprouted huge, round, squishy boobs and I stood by, the perpetual ironing board. Luckily, in high school I had the good fortune to rove with a band of gangly, skinny, flat-chested distance runners. Together we admired our streamlined silhouettes in the locker room mirrors, praising god for such blessed aerodynamicism. (I know that’s not a word. Deal.) We dubbed ourselves the ironing board crew and occasionally loaned our somewhat unnecessary sports bras to the “bigger” girls when they forgot theirs.
We dictated our own standard in which athleticism trumped sexuality and action was valued more highly than objectification.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love all you curvy ladies. But we’re not here to defend the C’s and D’s today. We’re here to stand in staunch support of the A and B cups of the world.
Filed under life, motivation
For the Record…
That 54 on my Puegeot? I own it. Turns out all Mama needed was some SPD pedals and a little dash of anger to get me movin’. With both ingredients in place, I killed last night’s commute home. I rode fast, tipsy, and without a tail-light. Tipsy and tail-light are not recommended. Fast, however, is strongly advised. My friend and co-worker, Ant, trailed me home to provide rear-tail-light visibility.
This is also the kid that I mentioned earlier who did a half-ironman last Saturday.
He did it alone, without a wetsuit, and drove himself 3 hours each way there and back in the same day.
So let’s get this straight: kid wakes up at 2 in the morning and drives to Bend. Goes through rat-race driving all over the course and back trying to get a straight answer from people about registration. Begins said race wearing a rented wetsuit that turns out to be too small. Flags down a boat, offloads the wetsuit, and finishes the swim in just his skin and a pair of tri-shorts (the only one in the field to do this). I happen to know on good authority that he swims more like a rock than a fish. He stays focused on each buoy as they appear on the horizon in front of him. Promises himself to just keep moving. Actually, I think he put it like this: “I gave myself two choices: die or keep going.”
Ok, I’ll admit it. I’m already impressed.