boobs

My weekly wardrobe looks something like this: pajamas/hoodie, pajamas/hoodie, yoga pants/hoodie, yoga pants/Minnie Mouse sweatshirt, pajamas/Minnie Mouse sweatshirt, pajamas, pajamas. If I have to go outside, I add knock-off Uggs and a puffy ski jacket. If I have to go out anywhere other than school, daycare, ballet, karate or grocery shopping, I’ll swap the pajama bottoms or yoga pants for jeans. I am style, personified.

The thing is, I work at home and at home, for much of the day, the only people around to judge what I’m wearing are the cats. The cats don’t care. They don’t see the need to get dressed up at home either. Why waste precious minutes getting dressed that could otherwise be spent reclining in sunbeams? Or, in my case, posting about sunbeams on Twitter? Keep reading…

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I’ve Looked At Boobs From Both Sides Now

June 22, 2010

So apparently Kim Kardashian has been saying – or, rather, tweeting – some silly things about breastfeeding. You know,the usual stuff: ew, some woman has her boobies out, she should cover up, yuck, blech, ugh, etc. This, of course, begs a very simple – I would, and will, argue, too simple – response: HYPOCRITE AHOY! [...]

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Boobquake: The Reckoning

April 27, 2010

Sure, I have body issues, and I sometimes get a little bitchy about that. But! If my boobs can move mountains – or cause volcanoes to spurt volcano innards – no puns intended! – then hell yes, I’ll flash them. By which I mean, of course I’ll wear a low-cut shirt on Boobquake day (which [...]

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Shame And The Mom: A Boob Story

October 7, 2009

Before I had children, I was deeply discomfited by the idea of breastfeeding. Neither pregnancy nor childbirth alarmed me – both would be uncomfortable, I figured, and the latter would involve some extreme measure of pain, but, really, nothing that the ordinary horrors (the monthly bloating and cramping and general misery) of womanhood hadn’t prepared [...]

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Why Don’t You Leave Your Name And Your Number And I’ll Get Back To You?

June 2, 2009

This, for those of you following at home, is called phoning it in. I am so exhausted from a weekend visiting in-laws – during which Emilia took up drumming and basketball and other activities more ordinarily associated with teenage boys than preschool girls – and I think that I’m coming down with something and, also, [...]

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Requiem For A Boob

May 28, 2009

When I was a kid, my mom used to joke about her boobs. “They’re tube socks!” she’d hoot. “I have to roll them up to get them in my bra.” I would cringe and recoil. “Mom,” I’d hiss. “You’re embarrassing me.” “Why are you so red, honey?” “Because you’re embarrassing me.” “I’m just talking about [...]

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Rainy Days And Mondays And, Also, Zombies, Get Me Down

March 23, 2009

I don’t have anything personal against Monday. It’s not like Monday’s ever done anything to me that she – oh, don’t give me that, you know Monday’s a she – hasn’t done to every other living being on the planet – pine beetles hate Monday too, pass it on – it’s just, you know, Monday. [...]

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Shame And The Written Mom

March 13, 2009

Husband: “So, that whole thing, earlier this week? That made you a little crazy, didn’t it?” Me: “Yeah. Kinda.” Husband: “Why? Why did it bother you so much?” Me: “——-?” Me: “——-.” I tell stories for a living. Mostly, I tell my own stories, the stories of my motherhood, and reflections on same. I do [...]

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They Shoot Wet Nurses, Don’t They?

March 10, 2009

Her name was Laura, and I nursed her baby. We had met, initially, at breakfast and immediately hit it off. We sat down with our coffees and immediately got swept up in a conversation that ran the gamut from the advantages of Twitter over Facebook to the challenges of leaving one’s baby for a night. [...]

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Dear WestJet: Customer Service, UR DOIN IT RONG

September 28, 2008

WestJet – as you know if you saw the addendum to my last post – finally had something to say about the flurry of letters (including one from me) and posts concerning their policies on in-flight nursing after I was asked to cover up on one of their flights a few weeks ago, and damn [...]

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