My Boobs Have Moved South…

…for the winter or so it seems.

I woke up early one morning recently because my boob was suffering from a mysterious chill.

I pulled the covers up but that didn’t help.

That’s when I realized I was sleeping on my back and my boob had fallen off the bed and was lying on the hardwood floor.


I knew I should have put carpeting in the bedroom.

Accidents like this are bound to happen. I’m old enough to know better.

“What the hell girl,” I said in my most scolding tone as I reeled it back  on to the bed–back under the covers where it belonged.

Thing one and thing two are developing a mind of their own.

They have some secret agenda is what I think!

Could this be that ‘physical discontent’ they talk about–the one that comes every winter–the one that comes as each decade passes?

Are our bodies searching to redefine how it will appear to the general public right now? Is this what happens, in the way of consequences, as we slack off on our maintenance of it?

Or was thing one actually searching for something in the form of that warm ray of sunshine that was lurking just beyond the curtains as the sun began to rise?


Fuck that!

Both of those little buggers should be satisfied with the heat brought on by those gall-darned hot flashes that course through my aging body at a surprising rate of speed wherever and whenever they feel like showing up.

Or could it be I’ve reached the time in my life–once again–where a sleeping bra would make sense. I wore one during my pregnancy’s to keep the girls closer to home when all they wanted to do was play.

Oh yes! That was very interesting.

The word ‘undulation’ is what comes to mind when I think of how they used to misbehave then. Their favorite game was to imitate a yo-yo when I moved about.

Bada-Boing, Bada-Boing, Bada-Boing!

Up down, up down, and sometimes even, as an added treat, a loop de loop.

Yes, my boobs have a secret life of their own. They’re always looking for attention, good, bad, or indifferent!

I recall another occasion a few years back when I was rudely awakened in the wee hours of the morning because I couldn’t breathe.

What the hell, I thought to myself?

What on earth was happening?

The first thought that came to mind was that hubby had finally had enough of my crazy antics and was trying to off me. He sometimes has these little adventures in his sleep, which I think makes him far crazier than me.

Oops! Did I say that out loud…..sorry honey, but in my defense–you do have those wacky dreams that set you out on a mission of sorts.

My Bad!

When my eyes popped open–an auto-reflex due to lack of oxygen–I could see he was still sound asleep and facing in the other direction. He was off the hook.

I reached up towards my throat and that’s when I discovered that thing two had decided to sleep in the crook of my neck.

Little bastard! I take very good care of the girls so this kind of behavior is shocking!

Were my boobs screaming out for security once again?


Or was it just a matter of weight distribution? Could it be the extra weight I’d recently acquired had chosen to settle in my boobs as it often does?

Anyone out there with large boobs knows that if you find a top to fit the girls the bottom always makes you look pregnant. If you find a top that fits the bottom, the boobs doth protest and will not allow buttoning, zipping, or snapping to happen.

Life’s a bitch sometimes!

Maybe this is yet another reason to keep duct tape in the drawer next to my bed.