Monday, November 27, 2006


I found this essay from a few years back, and thought I'd share. It was written circa 2000. Hopefully posting it will hurl me out of writer's block hell.

I Am Definetely Over My Ex-Boyfriend. And I Mean All Of Them.

I am, however, obsessed with the fact that one in particular is NOT calling me. Lest you think I am simply paranoid and needy, read on.

I spoke with him one night for more than an hour, catching up. He was convinced that there was some "real" reason I had contacted him (there really wasn't. I saw your picture in the paper, man. I called. Geez). Anyway. In the midst of catching up and playing what's been going on with you, I mentioned the fact that I no longer had gargantuan, Dolly sized boobs. But the way I said it was, "Well, I lost my chest." And I remember his reaction was, "You lost your chest!!!"

At the time, I thought he was simply mourning the loss of the girls. Now that I look back, I think he thinks I have no boobs at all. Like they were completely removed. So you can understand my terror that he's running around thinking, "she has no boobs."

I feel compelled to explain, but I can't simply call and say, "I need to tell you I have boobs!" and I have no other good reason to call him, and he isn't calling me (which is odd for him, unless he's grown, or unless HE THINKS I'M BOOBLESS). Oy.

My friend said that if she were me, she would probably call and say something about my breasts. She’d be thinking she has nothing to lose and she’s a little off center anyway. She’d call in a while just to say hi and say something about bodybuilding like "how hard is it for women to compete when the have a 36C cup like I DO!!" Be subtle, yet firm, she suggests. Like my new boobs.

I was never good at scriptwriting. That's why I have friends. Now I can think of dozens of sentences:

"It's so hard to find the right halter top, when you have a 36C cup like I do!"

"It's so hard to find orange juice in the Safeway, because my 36Cs get in the way!"

"I wish they would make steering wheels more compatible for women with 36C cups, like me!"

See, I am then giving the illusion that they are still meddlesome gals, big enough to wreak havoc in the checkout line.

“I will continue to live vicariously through you,” said friend offered helpfully. “36C! My, that's impressive. My script wouldn’t sound nearly as seductive:

"They don't make XS tank tops small enough for my 34A cups."

"I'm a 34A. Are you sure Victoria's Secret doesn't make training bras?"

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't stare at my chest with that crease in your brow."

"No, I'm NOT 14!"

Anyway, several days pass. No call from the ex. I am being rejected by someone I broke it off with. How is this possible? His job, the reason he was put on earth, was to worship me.

Who knew that his love was conditional on my having boobs? His refusal to love a boobless woman is shallow. Men.

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