Embarrassing myself by showing my boobs. Also not something new. But it’s always accidental.

I accidentally sent a topless picture of myself to one of my dearest friends. A guy friend. Much to his surprise this happened over an IM chat. Story is here. Lucky for me, this guy had already seen them. We dated years ago. For a while. Not like for a few days. MUCH longer. Like a few weeks. Because otherwise that would make me a hooker or something. Anyhow, that picture peep show was totally an accident.

I’ve even shown my boobs to a group of strangers. On an airplane. Of course, they didn’t sign up for the show. Nor did I mean to do it. But here’s the story retold. Clearly this live boob show happened unintentionally.

I’ve even purposely shared pictures of my boobs with that special man in my life. Hell, isn’t that the perk of being in a sexy and exciting relationship.  This was alway intentional. And always reciprocated. Meaning, I had also received pictures. It has been a mutual sharing event.

But ladies, be smart. Whatever you do, DON’T send pictures of your naked boobs, cleavage, thighs, etc to a man who you aren’t in a relationship with. You want to know why? They don’t have loyalty to you. Sure they appreciate the peep show for the time being. Men are visual. And they love the attention.

I’m here to tell you ladies, WAIT. Send pictures. But do it later. When he’s really into you.

Because otherwise these men will show these “sexy” pictures to other people. And they include names to call you. Trust me, sexy is not the descriptive word they use. It’s not cute. None of us want to be referred to the chick who “wears ugly bras” or to be called “big girl” or be tagged as a “a sure thing” for sharing this over email.

I’ve personally heard this from men who share this shit with me. From the men who willingly accepted these photos, and actually might have seemed excited to get them. At first.

So please, for the love of a higher power, STOP THE INSANITY. Okay, that was dramatic. But for those of you who feel sexy, and you should (we all should), share those pictures! But only share them with someone who has your best interest in mind. And I don’t mean just for the night.

This post was inspired by recent a recent reality tv show episode, articles I’ve come across and real life boys I’ve had to listen to.

Having pictures of myself talked about didn’t happen. I’m not saying it couldn’t happen. Aside from the events above, I’ve only shared photos with boys I’m “with”. So if they did show others, it would be the ultimate breach of trust. And paybacks are hell. Especially when I save all the photos I’ve received.

Side note to exes: In the rare chance that you read this, please don’t worry. I will not share that picture of Mr. Youknowwho or of you doing that pose.

Side note to readers who get this far: I do not choose to be with men who come up with names for that part. Ever.

I love to gamble. I love to drink wine. I love food (especially food I didn’t cook).

I booked a trip to Vegas, partly because I wanted to enjoy the loves of my life. But mostly because of these people.

Me, Mike, Suz
at Cut in Las Vegas

We ate at the most amazing restaurant, Cut. It was one of the best dining experiences I’ve ever had. I’ve been there one other time (in 2008) and said the same thing. Un-fucking-believable!

Pairing is an art. When you get the perfect pair, life is grand. I learned this on my recent trip to Vegas.

For instance, when gambling I love to see 8’s paired up (when the dealer shows a 7 or higher). I love to split them…like a hooker. This term is explained in my recent post Like a Hooker. I won money on this trip. Paired up 8’s helped, but discovering the term “like a hooker” made it a complete success.

Another example of pairs is when finding wine. I love to have it perfectly paired with my meal. Cut’s Sommelier had to help us select a wine. Fuck, the list was huge. And our choices started at well over $200 per bottle. Many bottles cost over $1000. I can’t deal with that. My taste is so much less discriminating. Plus I had been drinking cocktails for several hours prior to dinner. Anyhow, I still can appreciate a lovely wine paired with my meal.

This pairing up idea even works with food. I love to eat food that pairs the perfect flavors together to cause a party in my mouth. Cut did this. The food was flawless.

But the best pair of all…Suz and Mike. They are married. They met in law school.

Suz picked the perfect husband, Mike. And by perfect, I mean perfect for her. He’s far too hung for me. (I kid, I have no idea.) They are the healthiest married couple I know. And by healthiest, I mean in the married sense. Sure they eat healthy, but that’s not what I mean. I admire them.

Suz has been my dearest friend who I’ve known for 20 years. We met in college right before our freshman year. Obviously we stayed friends long after college.

Cheers to Suz and Mike, the perfect pair! I love you guys. xo

And what post talking about pairs couldn’t mention boobs. Yep, they are also the perfect pair. Trust me on this one.

Wino Wednesday…this weekly feature is designed to share my wine alcohol related stories.

But…

Helping people get skinny by showing them my boobs? I had no idea I had that kind of power!

Apparently starting at boobs is as good as working out. A study was done. Here’s the article to prove it.

I know men like to look at boobs. I have also known a handful of men who don’t. Funny, those men are all fat. But they know my eyes are brown.

Once the news of this study gets out, I can see the world changing. Men will put on their running shoes and then sit on the couch and ask us women to show them some cleavage. Some men may even get really bold by canceling their gym memberships in return for us fondling our breasts. Ladies, we have some work to do.

I’m okay with this. I may even try it myself. Not sure my trainer will buy into this idea. But I may say, “Sorry trainer, I didn’t do my cardio in the traditional way this week. I just stood in front of the mirror and rolled these babies around.”

Here I am. Still helping people. Two boobs at a time.

And since my boobs are helping people, that probably means that they are tax deductible. Like a charity. I better wear something low cut when I drop off my 2009 tax paperwork to my accountant. And include the bill for my boobs.

I’m so fucking sad. And that is NOT an exaggeration.

It involves two of my favorite at home pastimes: drinking wine and using my laptop.

I drink wine from Riedel stemware. Mostly because it makes my wine taste better. And when you drink as much wine as I do, you have to buy the inexpensive stuff. Let me tell you, drinking inexpensive wine out of fancy stemware makes all the difference in the world.

While I was in NYC back in October, I visited the flagship Apple store on 5th Avenue. I felt like a kid in the candy shop. I got caught up with the excitement and upgraded my equipment. Almost like when I got my new boobs. Let’s face it, I had boobs before, but I improved them with an upgrade. Trust me. They are so much better now. Oh right…back to the laptop. On that trip I got my new baby, a MacBook Pro laptop. I was using a MacBook Air that I love. But the upgrade in my equipment felt so right.

Well last night, disaster struck. And it involved my two favorite things (not my boobs).

Here’s a hint:

The picture shows a full wine glass on the table and my laptop on the ground below.

The disaster involves the two meeting.

Laptop got wet. Glass shattered. I cried.

Now I’m left with one less Chardonnay glass (which has been discontinued). And a MacBook Pro with a mousepad that no longer works.

And a broken heart.

After I bought my new adorable pink sponges, I learn that it’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

I love pink. I love boobs. Especially when that are without cancer.

So now everytime I was a dish, okay fine….a wine glass, I will think of all the boobs I’m saving.

Stresser: Subsequent Upside

Boobs seemed to have grown a size overnight causing my standard black dress to be snug on top: Makes my waist look super tiny.

Forgot to eat breakfast: Eating Cheetos for breakfast totally guilt free. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and that’s all I had in my office.

Rush to get out the door today: See above upside.

My to-do list at work is HUGE and growing: I have a job.

Need to respond to an email my ex sent me: He’s my ex.

I have a business lunch I’m not prepared for: It’s an expensed lunch.

Cancelled my session with my trainer tonight: Booked a 90 minute massage instead.

My feet hurt in my heels as soon as I put them on, but only when I walk: I have feet and I can walk (yay, two upsides!).

Worried that eating all these Cheetos will make me fat: I can blame the person who gave them to me as a gift. And call him a bastard for making me fat.

Enough. I’ve go plenty to be happy about. If I keep telling myself that, my mood will change, right? Maybe I’ll just quietly get through the day and come back tomorrow all fucking happy.

Carry on with your day people. Hugs and love and all that shit!

• Got through one marriage
• …and divorce.
• Have a wonderful 10 year old daughter.
• Own a home.
• Have  a career I love.
• Have a better rack than I’ve had since my early twenties ever had. This is considering the perfection when my boobs when they are naked and unsupported.
• Own a car.
• Unless you count Twitter, I have no crazy addictions.
• My tummy is flatter than it’s been in 10 years.

I can’t lie. The purpose of this post was totally for ME! I needed a moment to reflect on where I am in life. Hell I’m the one turning 38 on Saturday.

Generally birthdays don’t scare me. But this one is different. I’ve always felt older than I was…UNTIL NOW. I feel younger than my “late thirties”.

May the years (ahead) of denial begin.

Simple enough.

To make it even more fun, I like to body surf the waves. So that’s what I did.  But with the excitement, there is a downside.

Ocean waves are powerful. Playing in them can cause unexpected wardrobe malfunctions. Clearly I’m not new to these as you may remember from my peep show post earlier this week.

From experience yesterday, I learned that it is very easy to lose your bikini bottoms to your ankles and for your tightly tied halter bikini top to shift. Both happened. Many times.

But come to find out, this is common in San Diego. Check out what Kelli did this weekend. At least I’m in good company.

What I learned: no amount of wardrobe tape could have kept my nipples covered or kept my bottoms on. So sometimes you just need to be grateful for having tanned boobs and a tanned bum. And I am.

Within the first 30 minutes after we arrive in the San Diego airport she gave me the best ab workout ever. And all she had to do was tell me a story.

Her story came after she heard about me standing up on the airplane. That alone isn’t so exciting. However when my strapless sundress didn’t stand up with me, it became an exciting event. And by exciting, I mean mortifying. Yep, my dress slid down on my body as I got up to use the lavatory. Oh joy. I was embarrassed and didn’t bother looking up at anyone for fear that they were laughing, scowling or turned on.

Really, if I”m going to pull down my dress and give a peep show, I want it to be on my terms. Not on a wardrobe failure.

My humiliation reminded Suz of a story.

She was in Santa Barbara at a fancy hotel. She raced down to the pool wearing a sundress and a string bikini. That’s how she rolls. And not rolls as in fat. The girl is tiny.

I should explain her tiny frame. She’s thin. And completely flat chested. It looks good on her though. I’m guilt free from talking about her tiny boobs because I offered her my spare set and she refused.

Back to the pool. It was a hotel pool and there we other people there. Specifically two guys near Suz any many other people scattered around.

Suz is next to her lounge chair and pulls her sundress over her head. And you probably guessed it. Her string bikini top came loose and fell to her waist. Suz isn’t very modest. That didn’t bother her so much.

What did bother her? The two guys who were watching her. Why? Because of their response. They glanced up, saw the show and went back to whatever they were doing before. Without a smile, rise in their pants, or laugh. Suz concluded that they were either gay or thought she was a little boy.

Moral here: When we take off our top, we want a response. Positive always feels better. But something. Anything. Except for maybe a dollar bill. Or worse, a quarter.

Last nights’ crowd had me thinking…

Am I the only one who doesn’t have tattoos and/or piercings (aside from traditional earring holes)?

Tattoos are like artwork and can be beautiful. Clearly I have no issues altering my body as indicated in my frozen boob post. However, I just haven’t had the urge to put permanent ink on my body or pierce my nipples. Not yet anyway. I’ve invested a lot into these boobs. Putting holes in them is not an option. And tattoos. My ass is really the only place large enough to put art. And that thing stretches.

So I guess it is confirmed…I’ll be without tattoos and piercings.

Am I alone?

 I eagerly opened the bag and tore off the tissue paper. This is what I discovered…

Turns out someone I work with brought me a gift all the way from Hawaii. This person knew of my coconut obsession which would explain the gift. However I wonder if they were aware of my other obsession…boobs. Well not any boobs. Just mine.

Would it be rude to ask for bigger coconuts and a grass skirt? The sexy coconut device is better suited for a B/C cup plus I’ll need a grass skirt to make the outfit complete. Or better yet, I won’t risk being rude and I’ll use them as two giant pina colada cups. Umbrella straws anyone?

Self photos…we all have taken them. Why do we do it? Well here’s one reason why I do it. If I’m wearing a gift I received, I will send the person who gave it to me a quick photo as proof that I love the gift. When I say gift, I mean clothing & jewelry. I don’t strategically place the gifted iPhone dock on my torso and snap a photo and hit send. That would be silly.

There are also rare instances when I have sent “intimate” self photos to someone who has seen me in person the same way. When I say intimate, I mean naked. More specifically, topless. Beaver shots are not my thing.

As a new trick, I recently learned how to send photos over IM. It’s easy. Simply drag the photo over to the IM window and hit enter. If you’ve ever IM’ed…the pace is fast. Typos are common. Capitalization and punctuation isn’t always perfect. You’re in a mad race to get your thoughts out just like you would if you were sitting across from the person talking. There is no “recall” feature. Once it is sent, it is done. This translates to mistakes.

I had two darling intimate photos I wanted to send to someone. We happened to be chatting over IM. Remember how simple it is? Select picture, drag to IM window, drop picture there, hit enter. Done. So easy.

It may be important to note here that I was chatting with 3 people all in different windows on this particular evening. It is also very easy to drop the picture in the WRONG IM window.  

The rest of my IM chats went something like this:

Me:

Fuck.

Don’t look at my last message.

Please don’t.

I sent you a picture meant for _____’s eyes.

Fuck.

Him:

Okay. I won’t look. I’ll delete it.

[Changing windows]

Me (to the guy who I MEANT to send it to):

Fuck. I just sent photo #2 to someone else.

Him:

Was it a guy?

Me:

Yes.

Him:

He’ll love it.

Although I can’t guarantee that this photo was loved by anyone, I can assure you that I am much more careful on IM now.  Shocking my male friends with those types of pictures is SO wrong on so many levels.

Well it all makes sense why this was wasn’t a topless week. It is the 6 week birthday of my new rack. Congrats to them. To celebrate, I may go topless.

Which makes me worry about maybe not providing any actual help for those seeking it. So, as a public service, I did some research, and even asked my plastic surgeon. I was told to take ibuprofen and treat with ice/heat packs. But after looking on the internet, past my blog site reference, I learned that it could mean something more serious. I can’t have that kind of liability therefore GO SEE A PHYSICIAN if you really have throbbing boobs. If you just like to hear about boobs, then stay here.

When I do something cool like get promoted, have a kid, buy a new car, receive an award or whatnot I share it with my family. However somehow I can’t imagine my dad will be thrilled to hear the following words come out of my mouth:

“Google has my blog listed as the top site for the search term ‘throbbing boobs‘. Aren’t you proud?”