Monthly Archives: September 2011

Getting by with a little help from my friends


 As promised, here is the original appeal I made to my girlfriends for help with the project … and their wonderfully supportive responses.

Q:

 Hi, ladies.

If you’re receiving this email, it’s because I consider you a close friend and wanted to include you in a project I’m getting ready to take on.  Before I go any further, please look above at the ‘send to’ line.  You have all been blind copied on this message for your own benefit. Why?  Because it’s about boob jobs … and I consider you all experts on the subject but know that most, if not all, of you will not want to be outed.  I totally respect that.  Personally, I’m planning to take a different route.

 As a 42-year-old mother of two who basically exercises and eats right every day, I’m tired of looking at the deflated version of what I used to have up there.  Some of you have even had the honor of seeing them in person.  Those of who have know where I’m coming from.

So … I’m now looking into the possibility of an upgrade … but that’s not all. In the interest of keeping my promise to myself to return to writing when my school job ended, I’ve decided to go public … very public… about this whole project.  Blog-style.  (I still can’t admit I’m planning to write a blog without feeling a little dorky. When, oh when, will I get over that?)

Those of you who have seen the movie ‘Julie & Julia’ will know just what I mean.  The difference here is that, instead of writing a blog about cooking 500+ French recipes created by Julia Child inside of a year, I will be documenting the full process of what women go through when pursuing a boob job, first-hand. Every detail of the project will be included in the journal …. from arriving at the decision and telling my family … to interviewing doctors and maybe buying some new bras. And everything in between.

And I want you all to be a part of the whole process.  I will fully respect your anonymity and give you another name (of your choosing) and would love to be able to tap your brains and use your insight for me personally as well as in the blog with your permission.

 What do you say?  Care to be my personal consultants?  Any thoughts to share with me already? I can’t wait to hear from you all.  Love you guys.

 Michele

A:

I’d love to do it, and I’m fine with using my real name.  I’ve been pretty open about my ‘enhancements.’ I hope you enjoy yours as much as I’ve enjoyed mine. – Anne

What a cool idea! I’ve always suspected you had a writer’s soul. You are probably like me, in that you analyze, soul-search, etc. before you make this kind of decision, but you ultimately decided to do it for yourself — not because of external pressure. I think there are a lot of women who have grappled with the same thing, and would appreciate some candid blogging on the subject. You can feel free to pick my brain! – Cindy

I love mine … thrilled that I did it! Where are you in your decision-making process? You can see and/or feel mine (after a few glasses of wine … haha!) if you’d like! I did that with a friend to see what I thought before I saw her doctor. – Elizabeth

Ha!!! I absolutely LOVE this. I would love to be a part of your boob journey. My first piece of advice is to think long and hard about what size you would like. Everyone, including the docs, will tell you that you will wish you had gone bigger. I totally disagree!!! I actually wish I would have gone smaller. Big boobs can give the illusion of extra weight. Put a lot of thought into your size. Good luck.  I’m here for you whenever you need me. – Hannah

I’m definitely on board and you can use my real name.  I’m very comfortable with my decision, so ask away.  I’d happy to answer anything that you or anything else wants to know. – Kelly

(A friend) suggested I do a boob blog last year.  Unfortunately, I am not a skilled writer.  Glad to see that you are doing it.  And, yes, I am your best source for information. – Mary

Awesome!!! I am 3 years post boob job and have zero regrets. I’ll be happy to have you pick my brain. I clearly remember deciding between 3 doctors and picked the one who wanted to be smallest. The buying new bras was funny because in the beginning I bought bras that minimized my look and now I buy push-up bras with padding. Haha! Look forward to talking to you. – Megan

You can officially count me in to be a part of The Expert Panel, The Dream Team, Babes with Boobs, Not So Itsy Bitsy, Lifted with Love, The Boobilicious Society, etc.  You can use my real name. I don’t mind talking about my journey and how it relates to your boob case. And, if anyone learns a little more about breast cancer awareness from my comments, then that’s a bonus. – Melissa

Nothing to hide!!! Real name is fine by me.  The “girls” have been up front all these years, so why not me? You will love the new additions!  Any questions I might be able to answer, just ask. – Paige

I have lived through the roller coaster of emotions and know the feeling of excitement when the ride finally stops and you take a deep breath, give sneaky grin and say– God, I am glad I did it!! I am here to support you and the girls until they are able to support themselves. And, oh, what a wonderful day to know they can be out there on their own, not drooping over a wire that I never completely understood. – Red

Of course! And I got a mini-lift at the same time – look into it. I don’t care who knows.  My name is fine. Good luck, Michele.  I love your idea.  You will be thrilled and will probably wonder why you didn’t do it sooner. – Vineen

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Introducing the Boob Expert Panel


Where would I be without the constant …  sometimes level-headed, sometimes leap-before-you-look … advice of my friends?  (Am I supposed to be saying besties or BFFs here?  Wait, no. I’m a grown-up.)

I am blessed with more friends than I know what to do with.  So many that I am usually left feeling like a jerk when I forget somebody’s birthday or fail to meet their beautiful twin boys, now approaching a year old,  who live right here in town with me.  (Yeah, one of the hazards of my friendship these days is that you’re likely to find yourself referenced in this blog at some point.)

And, if you are one of the many wonderful people out there who I have called friend over the course of my life, you know something about me that has never changed.  I am an advice seeker.  Always.  On every subject.  I think some of my pals find it charming and some highly annoying.  Seriously, these poor souls know what I’m talking about.  I can’t buy a pair of shoes without texting the different selections to a friend or two first.  Eating out? Always an adventure with my friends apologizing to the server for my inability to decide on a menu item. I think I recently polled numerous people about choosing a new salad dressing. It’s what I do.  Like it or not.   I want second opinions.  And thirds.  And so on.

For this reason, I’ve elected to assemble my own ODNT Expert Panel (more comical names encouraged for submission … Team Boob?  I don’t know. I’m tired today), consisting of girlfriends of mine who have actually had boob jobs. These girls are all a really important part of my life and will now serve as my consultants for all the big questions that arise over the course of this project.  They will become my panel of authorities who will help guide me and anyone else reading here.  So, without further ado, please allow me to introduce you to Anne, Cindy, Elizabeth, Hannah, Kelly, Mary, Megan, Melissa, Paige, Red and Vineen.  No, not all of my girlfriends elected to use their real names.  Some yes, some no.  Remember, I’m the only attention-hogging grandstander here. (FYI, I will be posting the appeal I made to this incredible group of women and their responses in the near future.)

Oh, yeah. And remember that we are certainly not limited to the above eleven.  If you want to join the panel … either using a pseudonym or your real name … contact me and let me know.  Blog commenting, private messaging, voice mail, email, text, snail mail, carrier pigeon, morse code, skywriting, singing telegrams, strip-o-grams, mental telepathy, message in a bottle, two cans and string, throwing a rock through my window … all of these methods would be fine.  Though I think the last one would tick off my husband.  So “don’t” do it!

Thanks to my girlfriends who have already signed on.  And here’s welcoming any more who want to jump in.  I promise lots of laughs along the way.  Even if they’re all at my expense!

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Jogging Bras and Rabid Dogs


I woke up this morning to cooler temps in the high 60s, a good ten degrees lower than it was this time yesterday.  And, unlike the last few months spent living too close to the sun,  I felt inspired to take my run outside today.  My outdoor runs yield a much greater workout than the indoor ones taken on my treadmill.  Seriously, inside there are TVs involved, cellphones, sometimes even a book (only during the wind down part) but still …

Another perk of indoor exercise is that I can run in much more slovenly attire.  T-shirt (optional), standard bra and old gym shorts totally pull the indoor “look” together.  Outside exercise requires a little more attention to detail.  Not only does the world have the privilege of seeing you in all your disgusting and sweaty glory but, since the workout itself is always so much more intense, a jogging bra must come into play here. Mine’s black and it works beautifully.

Of course today, having not put it on in so long, I couldn’t help but notice the difference between what this bra does for me versus my ‘miraculous’ one.  I really need to write Victoria’s Secret a letter. Maybe they’ll ask ME to be in their next televised fashion show. (Oh, close your mouths. I am not that delusional.)

So, now fully garbed in my outside look, I grabbed my phone and set out for my run … looking a heck of a lot like a twelve-year-old boy.  Clearly, I either need to think long and hard about this decision … or perhaps just lobby Victoria’s Secret to manufacture an enhanced running bra.  Maybe it could have an iPhone charger built into the extra padding.

Although, while I was running today … fighting off the beagle attack I encounter nearly every time (I am SO going to make jerky out of that dog one day) … the thought occurred to me that any change I take on will get me out of heavy lifting and exercising for, like, a month or so.  I better double check those numbers.  And maybe the restrictions as well.

Think my family would understand if I was “incapable” of doing laundry, cleaning cat boxes, changing the channels on the remote, brushing my own hair, sitting upright, etc.  Hmmm, I may be on to something …

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I am the boob girl


I am the boob girl.

I almost went with boob lady, but I like the ability to sing my version to the tune of ‘I am the Walrus.’ (For my pop culture-challenged friends, that’s an old Beatles song.)

Last night, I had a meeting at my kids’ school for the women’s half of the parents association. We’re a pretty tight-knit community. Everyone knows you … or at least everyone knows someone who knows you. And the fact that I was co-president of this organization last year with my dear friend, Ashley, pretty much prevents me from flying under the radar there at all anyway.

(Note: you’ll be meeting Ashley better next week as I’ve added her as an Appointment Buddy.  And she’s up for the Wednesday appointment.)

Anyway, this was the first big meeting of the school year. And, more importantly, the first one I wasn’t running (I know, Ashley … CO-running!)  in a while … which left me available to visit with other moms before and after the meeting a bit.  The topic of conversation initiated with me over and over again? Boobs, of course.

Specifically MY boobs.

I was a little surprised it (they) kept coming up as this was the circle in which I had chosen to lay low the most … assuming some of these women would think I was nuts. I’m friends with so many of the parents there … and the teachers … and the principal, for Pete’s sake! I wasn’t sure I wanted to unleash everything so close to home.

Worlds colliding, you know?

The funny thing is, that although I hadn’t directly contacted most of these ladies about the blog, many of them had already seen it. And read it.  And liked it.

I really do need to get over myself, don’t I?

Anyway, I spent the night jumping from circle to circle, talking about my boobs with the kind of enthusiasm that allows you to know the subject of my conversation from across the noisy room. (Hand gestures and repeat grabbings of your own boobs will always give you away, FYI.)

I even got the opportunity to see and feel another mom’s implants in the bathroom before the night was over.  Seriously, it was her idea and she pulled me into the ladies room.  I guess it seems only fair considering how many friends I’ve been flashing lately.  And, by the way, Kelly … they were spectacular! (Yes, of course, I have her permission to use her name.  Never mind the fact that I got it over drinks later that night!)

After the meeting ended … and I talked to no less than a dozen people about my boobs … we all went out for drinks and the discussions only deepened.  Again, I found myself surprised by the women (and men, apparently) who had been tuning in and were regularly keeping abreast (how many times can I use that one really?) with ODNT.   There were two women there I had never met before who have already taken the big plunge.  And these ladies were more than happy to have the opportunity to discuss ‘all things boob’ with everyone and learn even more with me during my research process.

The bottom line is I think I’ve created a bit of a new identity for myself … as ODNT or perhaps just Old Dog, which I can live with.  But, you know, it’s kind of nice having my own identity after all these years as my kids’ mom, the school’s president, my mother’s daughter or any of the other familial connections linked to me. (Wink.)  And, hey, my boobs actually scored me lunch today at one of my favorite local burrito joints.  (Thanks, Alyson, Robby and Izzo’s for a great meal!)

And these are still my ‘befores!’  Think … of the possibilities!

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The First Consultation Appointment – Pt. 2


So, we went into the examination room, still tasteful and completely boob-less in décor, and waited for the doctor.  My stupid phone rang again but, this time, I ignored it.  Not going to fall for that one again, iPhone.  I wanted to be mentally prepared for her when she came in.  So, I started trying to organize my thoughts.  Virginia wanted to throw her gum away and we joked about what she might see in the ‘Biohazard’ bin in the room with us.   She screwed up her courage, lifted the lid and tossed in her wad of gum.  Of course, we saw no used saline bags or spare nipples (sorry to my friend who can’t stand the sound of that word).  Too bad though.  That would’ve been a cool addition to this story, wouldn’t it?

It wasn’t long until the doctor came in.  She was very down to earth and Virginia and I both felt immediately at ease with her.  Score for the introductory appointment! The first thing she did was have the two of us switch places so I’d be across from her for the consultation.  I can’t imagine how she was able to determine so quickly that the patient was me and not my ‘gifted’ friend, Virginia. (Um, yes, I’m totally being sarcastic.  You don’t really know me that well yet so I thought I’d clue you in.)

The doctor interviewed me first.  I think that’s standard protocol, or at least it should be so they can get to know you and therefore know what best suits you boob-wise.  She listened to me explain that I was a 42-year-old mom of two who nursed nearly four years between the two of my children.  She laughed and said that, with most moms nursing an average of six months per child, it’s like I’ve nursed eight kids.  Damn.  Kate Gosselin I am not.  But maybe my boobs are.

And just as we were laughing and feeling very comfortable about the whole thing, she called for my top to come off. (My brain was racing. She had complimented it when she first came in.  Maybe she just wanted to try it on.  Geez … wake up, Michele!)  The moment of truth was here.  I think I actually looked at Virginia at that point and apologized. She offered to leave but I said no.  I’m supposed to be public here.  I mean … not webcam-for-the-blog public … but public in the sense that I wanted other opinions.  I wanted another set of ears hearing everything from the doctor.  Helping me remember everything. And digest everything, for that matter.

With me now topless, we started to get into the nitty gritty of it all.  She measured me to determine where my nipples fell (Again, sorry to my nipple-fearing friend.  You might just need to skip this chapter) and get the whole lay of the land, if you will.  The long and the short of it is that my breasts weren’t the worst things she’s ever seen.  And my nipples weren’t ridiculously low or anything like that. We then proceeded to discuss a worst case scenario or two that made me feel a little better about myself.

So, after seeing my ‘presentation’ and getting to know me a bit, she said she would recommend a lift for me personally.  She explained that, by grabbing everything that had spread out (and down) over the years and clustering it up back together in a higher place on my chest, I was likely to get exactly what I was looking for in boob-wear. My nipples would also be moved up and slightly reduced in size. (FYI to nursing mothers, this procedure does not impede your ability to breastfeed in the future. No nerves or anything else are cut here.) My breasts, now higher and more compact, would in fact appear larger.  She added that, if at a later date I decided I wanted a more substantial size, I could always go back there and slip a pair of implants into the higher, fully healed breasts.

I cannot stress enough how much she encouraged having these two procedures (the lift and the implants) done separately for the sake of healing and minimal scarring. She explained that the incisions made from the lift (described as anchor scars) would be nominal if you don’t overfill the breast at the same time with an implant.  They would only serve to push out against the healing incisions and thus create a more visible scar. And I saw several before and after pictures testifying to this fact.  She further added, as it’s the first place many of us go in our minds, that her costs for doing the two surgeries individually or together are nearly the exact same (as she gives discounts to repeat clients) … but she said many of her patients are so satisfied with the lift that they don’t always return for the additional implant surgery.

We talked a little about implants as well and she said she preferred saline to silicone. I mentioned that I’ve heard silicone seems to be coming back into vogue now but, after so many years of being removed from the market due links to cancer and other health issues, I had no interest in being a guinea pig for the new and improved version. Especially since they’ve only been made available again as an option for the last few years. She agreed.

She also said the exact same thing that I have heard from woman after woman with whom I’ve spoken about this project.

“Don’t go too big!

She said that, particularly on a smaller person like myself, oversized breasts will actually create a look of added weight overall on a woman’s frame.  Yeah, not really what I’m looking for here at all. I already enjoy cheese enough that I don’t need my boobs helping to make me look fat.

So, armed with more knowledge than I knew what to do with … and scared shitless that I needed to go through this process three or four more times …. I left the office with Virginia.  But not before telling the doctor about my online journal.  She loved the idea and its name and encouraged me to come back to visit again if I had more questions or needed explanations about anything.  I’m a big fan of this doctor so far. Of course, I’m not sure what I’m going to decide in the end … but she was a very good place to begin.

My next consultation appointment is Tuesday, September 20.  And I feel like I need to start getting organized already!

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The First Consultation Appointment – Pt. 1


So, I’m lying in my bed in the dark last night trying to fall asleep … amidst nervous pangs of anxiety and a bit of a stomach ache … and Seinfeld is on in the background. The show ran nine seasons and produced nearly two hundred episodes in total, but (of course!) the one that’s airing is ‘The Implant.’ If you’ve seen the show even once, you know what I’m talking about. Teri Hatcher guest stars as Jerry’s love interest, and Elaine questions the authenticity of her two best assets.  The whole episode then goes on to debate the difference in look (and feel) of real versus fake and the average person’s ability to spot the difference.  Great.  Just what I need to be listening to as I doze off, right?  Anyway, I did finally get to sleep last night … despite the cat’s constant efforts to keep me awake.

This morning was a fairly normal one, waking up the kids and getting them dressed, fed and out the door to school … stopping only once for a quick toilet-side goldfish funeral for my daughter’s 11-month-old pet.  So, I could now focus on my first big appointment this morning.  And I made sure to wear a shirt and pants today as I knew I’d be topless for an audience in less than an hour.  Commence the palm sweats.

True to my usual form, I ran a little late this morning and still needed to run around the corner to pick up my friend and boob supporter (which I guess sort of makes her a human bra) on the way to the doctor’s office.  I’m late, but she’s not (Thanks, V), so she jumps in the car, coffee in hand, and begins thumbing through the People Magazine on the floor of my car.  Unfortunately, she doesn’t realize that I’ve already got secretarial duties planned for her, and I quickly make a call to schedule my next appointment.  (I’m still deathly afraid some of these docs are going to tell me there’s a three, six or even twelve-month wait for an appointment.)  But I luck out, and my next appointment, with recommended doctor number two, is now scheduled for this coming Tuesday.  (Titillating Tuesdays for me from week to week, I suppose.)

We race there only to learn that my reliable iPhone GPS really should’ve given me a different route, so we’re set back a few more minutes and are now wrestling with an old man driver to get into the damned parking garage.

 MeI can totally get around him.

VirginiaI think you should just take the next turn.

MeWHY IS HE JUST $#@&% SITTING THERE?!!?  (pause) I think I can intimidate him into moving.

VirginiaBe nice.  Take the next turn.

MeFine.

VirginiaLet’s call the office while we’re looking for a parking spot.  Tell them we’re running a little late because we left one of your boobs at home.

MeSee.  I told you you could be funny.

The office is nice when we call and seems to understand the crowded garage. Alas, my phone rings as we’re running in, and I notice it’s one of the other doctors I’ve called repeatedly to make an appointment.  Hating to miss the call, I grab it … thinking it’ll only take a minute.

 Wrong.

 These people want to know everything about me.  Seriously, I think I gave them my Confirmation name.  Again, unfortunately for Virginia, this phone call leaves my hardworking friend responsible for checking me in to the current appointment and literally beginning the completion of my paperwork. She did a damned good job if you ask me, leaving blanks only in areas like my social security number.

 I finally finish up my phone interrogation and take over the pen and paper from my amazingly-composed friend.  We laugh about the “Do you drink alcohol at all?” question.  Then, she adds her two cents about the one asking “Have you seen a psychiatrist or therapist in the last two years?”  Fine, fine. And then, I have to sign the Photograph Consent Form. Ugh.  I’ve seen these headless wretches a few hundred times during the last few months and no one … I mean NO ONE, not even the best pair of boobs … looks good in these photos.  Yes, they’re headless … and therefore anonymous.  Still, I’ll know. Bleeeeech.

 Once we finished the paperwork, we were finally able to settle down in our seats and take in our surroundings.  And you know how when you go to a podiatrist, there are feet and foot-related products everywhere?  Same for ENT with big plastic ears, noses and throats or at least pictures of them all over the place.  Well, like a dumb ass, I half-expected to see boob diagrams on the walls, perhaps a large plastic resin cross-section of a boob illustrating the implant process, maybe even a big boob-shaped chair for patients in the waiting room.  Alright, I’m getting a little carried away with that last one.  Anyway, there was nothing.  I could’ve been at the breast doctor’s office or a law firm.  It was a tasteful space that gave nothing cosmetic away except for the small cabinet of skin products we spied in one end of the room.

 Only one other woman came in while we were there.  And I don’t think she was a patient.  Or maybe she was a ‘before’ like me. Let’s hope.  (Sorry, but it’s true!)  We waited a little longer, shooting the bull about boobs and talking about whatever (or whomever!) else we could think of to discuss … until I heard them call my name …

Part two of this momentous experience will be shared tomorrow … when my head stops spinning!

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Telling my family and friends


Okay. So, I decided I wanted to look into a boob job. And I wanted to go public about it.  But, before I could truly go public, I needed to run it by my family.  And maybe a few close friends. Just to see the looks in their eyes when I tell them about my plans.

Here’s how it went …

Husband … There were various comments, among them …  “You know, you could write about things like our fig tree in the backyard.”  AND  “Have you told your Dad yet?”  AND  “Umm … sure.  Maybe when you earn enough money from your writing jobs.”  For the record, I think he’s good with it now.  Or at least “good” with it.  Elective surgery. General anesthesia.  These are things that make him squirm. He cares … or maybe just doesn’t want to be a single dad … but, either way, that’s a good thing, right?

Mother … I told her on vacation. It was an odd choice but the opportunity suddenly presented itself. And I was expecting all kinds of motherly worry and maybe even a little judgment. What I got was “I can’t believe you waited this long.” After we got through our spontaneous eruption of laughter, she mentioned that, as my mother, she’s seen my boobs … in all their post-baby glory … and understands my decision completely.  (Love you, mom!)  Her concern was more about my going public about it. “Are you sure you want to do that?” she asked.  I figure … you can’t hide this kind of change anyway … so why not stop all the gossip and rumors and put it all out there. If you want to talk about my boob job, I want to be in the circle.

Brother … He was all in.  He works in medical equipment sales and has seen all kinds of advancements in this area and has a great many doctor connections in the city. Score!  And, in his infinitely asinine way of trying to rib me and make me feel awkward (it’s a sibling thing), he started texting me soft porn and suggesting different ‘sets’ I might want to look into buying. It’s a pretty hilarious thing to open up unexpectedly on my phone, especially when I have to explain it’s from my brother.

Father … He was my albatross.  My husband, mother and brother all thought so and had convinced me as such.  So, I worked up my nerve and invited him to lunch.  Unfortunately, I had no childcare that day so I needed to select my eatery carefully so that my kids could sit separately from us without it raising any eyebrows.  (We went with a ‘roll your own burrito’ joint if that detail is significant to anyone.)  My dad and I sat at our own table right next to the elevated bar table where my kids sat, which was pointed directly at the wall-mounted television.  Problem solved.  And, after a bit of idle chit chat, I finally told him I invited him to lunch with an ulterior motive and lowered the boom.  And he didn’t flinch, progressive man that he is. (My mother is now officially rolling her eyes.)  He asked a few questions about whether or not the implant would be placed above or beneath the muscle and about saline in general.  He was actually approaching the whole thing from a scientific point of view.  Why am I surprised?  The Discovery Channel is like religion to him.

Friends (just a handful!) … Of course, I checked in with several other people in my life including my lady doctor (who also happens to be a neighbor and friend) and got a resounding “Good for you!”  And weighing in with half a dozen other friends earned me a few quizzical looks here and there and, of course, offered several more occasions to expose my boobs.  (Really, it’s been like Mardi Gras around here.)  But, in the end, no one tried to talk me out of it.  Some were surprised and some not.  Some still have questions for which I’ll be seeking answers and covering in future installments.  All were excited to be part of the process from the beginning.  And the one word that several of them used to describe what I’m doing was “brave.”

It’s funny, you know.  I wasn’t the least bit nervous about any of this business until someone characterized it as brave.

Damn girlfriends.

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The first appointment is scheduled! (Silent scream)


Okay, so how long can I write about National Boob Holidays, 83-year-olds getting implants and Katy Perry, right? Well, yes, I’ve been vamping and waiting a little … due to nerves and little scheduling obstacles (who I refer to casually as my kids) … to act on everything. Then, yesterday, I had a spare moment of clarity … as in no one needing Latin help, a litter box changed, new tap shoes or a clean flag football jersey … so I jumped on it.

I called the first doctor recommended to me, half expecting her office to say they couldn’t see me until late January or something. So, you can just imagine my surprise when the receptionist booked me for this Tuesday (THIS TUESDAY!) at 9:30am. I think I just tasted my breakfast a second time today.

But … it’s only a consultation. (It’s only a consultation. It’s only a consultation. It’s only a consultation.) And, even more, it’s only four miles from my front door … and it’s free. I can’t think of an easier way to slink into the meat of this whole project. So then, WHY am I sweating?

I am not going alone. So far, I have three wonderful friends (Vanessa, Melissa and Virginia)  who have offered to come with me to these initial … and I’m guessing pretty humbling … appointments. (I’m sure my mom will figure into this equation at some point, too.) I approached these three girlfriends about this first appointment and heard from Vanessa first.

Me – You’re probably going to have to see me naked from the waist up. I’m so sorry.

Vanessa – That’s okay. I’ll just take my top off, too.

Me – You’re a good friend.

Vanessa – Wait. Just got a text. I have a hair appointment Tuesday morning so I might have to leave early if I come.

Me – That’s fine. Let me call Melissa or Virginia.

Vanessa – I still want to get that coffee we keep talking about.

Me – Sure. This week.

Vanessa – Maybe when we go for coffee, I can take my top off there and score us a couple of free lattes!

Me – You’d do that for me?

Vanessa – I think I need to go put some self-tanner on.

So, looks like Vanessa won’t be making it this time. Not to worry. All of my friends are hilarious. It’s why I keep them around really. Each is funnier than the last.

Virginia’s coming along for the ride this time. And she’s already mentioned going for an early lunch after the appointment. The consultation is supposed to last only 45 minutes “unless,” the receptionist adds, “you have more questions that need answering.”

These poor people have NO idea.

So send me your ideas for questions … please!

What should I be asking? What questions would YOU want answered?

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Katy Perry and her troublemaking boobs


Okay, so just yesterday, I wrote that I don’t think about boobs every day … and then I went to a Katy Perry concert last night.  Try NOT to think about boobs at a concert where the megastar kicks off the show wearing a Candyland-inspired dress complete with spinning peppermint boob décor.   A google search for a picture of the minty dress revealed that her boobs have apparently been a hot topic in the news over the years.  Among the humorous results:

 — Katy Perry ET Big Boobs Bouncing Live Performance Firework Divas

— Katy Perry shows her breasts – You Tube

— Katy Perry’s Boobs – Exposed! Katy Perry’s Exclusive – You Tube

— Jessi J: Katy Perry’s boobs are amazing

— Flavorwire – The Top Ten Katy Perry Boob Moments

— Katy Perry and Her Boobs were on SNL Last Night

— Katy Perry’s Mom Hates Her Breasts

and …. my hands-down favorite …

— Katy Perry’s Breasts Get ‘Sesame Street’ Ban

 The VERY BENIGN video is below.  Fairly prudish, if you ask me.

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Q&A: Do you think about boobs every day?


Um, no.  What am I … a guy?!!?

Go, Saints!!!

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