Are these things on?

So, I finally went out with one of these guys from the whole online dating thing and if he was really 5’11’’ then that would make me 5’10”.

Seriously, if you are going to lie about something to your prospective date, why would you lie about something so un-liable? Something that I will notice if I am a sighted person and when you are standing right next to me. Of course, he was 50, so maybe he used to be 5’11” and now is shrinking. I used to be 5’6”. Now I just wear heels.

Aside from the you-are-not-as-tall-as-you-said-you-were issue, the guy talked faster than I did, wore too much cologne and made no eye contact with my actual eyes. I didn’t even have on a ton of cleavage (pimple was gone by then) and yet, I kind of wanted to tap on my breasts and say, “Is this thing on?” for him. Look, I know they are big. I'm okay with that, but for god sakes, they are just boobs. I know I can still sometimes get free stuff because of them like Erin Brockovich, but come on...seriously, they are not shiny objects that should distract grown men that much.

You should have seen me when I was nursing. Dear god, they were bigger than Max. Like, bigger than he is now and he is seven. Seriously, there was a point with Max when he was an infant where I was a 40G. Yes, you read that right.

Strangely enough and perhaps because the universe likes me sometimes, they are now smaller and still face north. Sometimes in my life that is all I need to get me through my day. Although, smaller is a relative word. When I left my husband at a size 16, they were like a 38DD to an E. Then one day, about six months later, I figured they might be smaller because my bras were no longer fitting. Nordstrom is my favorite placed to get measured. Perhaps because they are actually trained to measure you and aren’t just randomly fondling you like a prom date. So, my Nordstrom boob-guru measures me and says, 32DD. I froze. I looked at her blankly for a moment then yelped with glee, yes, glee was actually yelped. I threw my arms around her neck and hugged her. I told her my brief story,(hah, just noticed that was a pun. Get it? Lingerie section at Nordstrom? “Brief” description? Oh never mind) bought three really expensive bras for my lovely new boobs. Well, older boobs. Older…but happier boobs.

Older but happier. I like that. That kind of describes me. Nope, that totally describes me. I think back on the past and live without regret. Now some of you who know me really, really well are wondering how that is possible (my sister) and are rolling their eyes right now. So to clarify, I will put in the following disclaimer: Although I now live without regret, sometimes, I smile, giggle for a moment and shake my head in a what-was-I-thinking-oh-well-it-made-a-good-story kind of way. Actually I like those moments. Hehehe.

Anyway, someone recently asked me how long I was married and how much of it was good. I said the first couple of years weren’t too bad. Out of ten. To be very honest, with you and myself, the month before I got married, I almost called it off. That was our first fight and it was not pretty. It wasn’t fought well, if you know what I mean. I’m not sure why, but something made me go ahead with it anyway. Perhaps the non-refundable deposits.

However, if I hadn’t gotten married, a few things would have never happened:

1) I would never have had Max and Dash and that would have sucked.
2) I would still be fat and that would have sucked.
3) I wouldn’t have become a teacher and that would have sucked.
4) I would have never become the me I am now and that would have sucked.

No matter how much anguish, distress and Ativan it took me to get to this place right here, right now; sitting in my jammies, watching my children play, wondering if I can get cat pee off of my comforter or if Anna’s Linens is having a sale today…this is the me I really like. Besides the whole boobs-are-pointing-north part of me, I like this whole yes-I’m-exhausted-but-I’m-okay-with-it part of me.