boobs, bras and boob*

*lets begin with some definitions shall we.

boob in the first context refers to my ample boosom.

bras in this case refers to the shopping excursion for, shall we say corrals for said ample boosom, that i shopped for before i departed for nz.

boob in this context is an idiot.

that straight let me share a little story.

so i’m walking to a party at the pub last night. it is bright daylight although we’re nearing on 8pm. and i come to an intersection on queen street that is teeming with folks heading for food or fun or whatever.

i look around becasue i love looking around this place…it is still so new…and this man in a leather jacket and sunglasses looks me in the face and says, “are they real?”.

i’m taken aback. i have encountered countless sexual advances and inappropriate conversqations and touches in my life, in multiple countries but this one seemed out of the clear blue sky. i looked at him squarely and wodered if i should answer…it was a fleeting thought and i looked in another direction assuming that was the end of it. but no.

a moment later when i checked the light he inquired again, quite earnestly…”are they yours?”

now, the background to this, for me anyway, goes back to my shopping excursion the day before i left texas. oprah apparently did a show on undergarments and how most women are wearing the wrong sized bra. my sister took to this and went out and bought herself some new bras (and it does make a huge difference).

for my part, she decided i should not depart the country without better fitting underwear. so we spent well over an hour in some store trying on no less than 50 bras (i’m so not kidding) and flashing the bra expert (bless her heart she was AMAZING) to find 2…count them 2 bras.

and so now the girls sit up pretty high and perky. that said, i guess i can’t be too surprised that they garnered a little more attention then they used to.