*Currently Listening: Message In A Bottle by The Police
Dear Mom & Dad,
Yes, I'm blogging about my boobs today, well - not just my boobs, but they're a big part of it. Sorry. Oh Mom...yes, you DID raise me right.
With Love, Your Daughter
Yes, I'm blogging about my boobs today. We talked about it. Your cool with it. If anything you're actually happy about it. As you said, "Uh, it's YOUR blog, write about whatever the hell you want!"
Love You! The Wife
It's interesting how we take little personal journeys to find what we fall in love with. Most often, I think it ends up being a combination of things. Sometimes we forget facets of that journey. Yesterday, I was reminded about a facet of my perfume lovin' journey. I was watching the Today Show yesterday morning when an segment about plus sized fashion blogger Gabbi Greg. What had Ms. Greg done to make herself so mainstream worthy? She wore a bikini, had several pictures taken of herself wearing said bikini, posted it on her blog, and encouraged others to post their own "fat-kini" pictures. (Remember what I said yesterday about coon-ass? Yeah, same rules apply here.)
More than just my weight in general, there's one....err, two things that get in the way. My boobs. Both of my grandmothers were well endowed and I got the lions' share in the gene pool. (That and a propensity for urinary tract infections.) My boobs, they're there - like REALLY THERE, and whenever I loose weight, they are the LAST thing to change.
I grew up LONGING for the glamour and status of designers like Chanel & Dior that I saw in my Grandma Byrd's old copies of Vogue growing up. Big picture problem, there wasn't anywhere in SETX where I could FIND Chanel or Dior....but let's put that little issue to the side. There's NO WAY a Chanel suit jacket is EVER going to button up around The Girls, but you know what I can have that won't send me to cry in the dressing room? A bottle of Chanel perfume....or Dior, or Prada, or Missoni, or Marc Jacobs, or in my HS days it was Tommy Girl for Tommy Hilfiger.
I won't say that my designer perfume worked as emotional Teflon. I was teased and teased a lot. I laughed right it all off. It was a hell of a lot easier than crying, and I didn't need to reapply the mascara. Funny thing was, in the midst of all this teasing, I never really lacked male attention. Clearly I'm not some horrific Titosaurus Rex!!! The teasing lasted right up until I ran away to North Carolina and got married. Come on...who wants to tease some dude's wife about her boobs!?!? I think it looses its' appeal.
By this time my love for perfume was rather strong. I had spent a significant amount of time in a city MUCH bigger or more cosmopolitan than the one I grew up in, and got to smell a much wider variety of fragrances. I mean, my husband did give me perfume and an atomizer as my wedding gift!
I'm thankful that I had a grandmother who was able to both sew and pattern make very well and taught me a good deal about dressing for your body and proportions; but most importantly, if YOU feel dynamite in it FREAKING WEAR IT!
I think the cool thing about wearing perfume in the way that I have been "forced" to because of my size is that it can really SAY something. Yes, at time I'm using it to fill a void fashion wise, but it's never ever just a flippant afterthought. Some may choose to wear a tight form fitting black dress, I'll just smell like the evocation of that. May way has MUCH more staying & "saying" power! ;-)
So thank you Gabbi Greg for your awesomeness AND your awesome blog. You all really should check it out! I've already found so many new places to shop in just a day.
*Currently Listening: I Melt With You by Modern English
**Photo Credit: gabifresh.com