I wore a strapless bra to school the other day owing to shoulder-and-sleeve complications concerning my sweater. It wasn’t anything sexy; I couldn’t be that lucky. (Quite the opposite, in fact.)  When I got home, I slipped off the bra and draped it over the wastebasket next to my computer chair. Whew, that felt better.  As my idol Anissa Mayhew said the other day on Facebook, "Taking your bra off at the end of a super long day is quite possibly one of the best feelings ever."  I'll say.  Yowza.

Then I forgot about it.

Until tonight, when my daughter came home for a few hours, and brought her friend Anthony with her. Bless his heart, he sat by that humongous thing for over an hour, tinkering with my psychotic, constantly-hacked computer, and never said a word. And you KNOW he saw it; the thing is as big as a mixing bowl. Two mixing bowls.  Two humongous shiny mixing bowls, so close his knees brushed against them a couple of times. 

After that, he was obviously careful not to come too near.  Oh, the horror. . . . .

This bra actually far too big for me, but when I find one that will stay up, I feel obligated to buy it, even though it’s channeling Pyrex.  Sometimes I sense that it's the love child of a commercial bread bowl and satellite TV.

Too bad I didn’t remember it being there till after they’d left. It’s still here, in fact. From this angle, it looks like a hibernating albino turtle.  Two albino turtles.  Identical twin albino turtles. Identical twin albino turtles sired by Andre the Giant.

I really should be more careful where I fling my underwear. Visitors will start to think I have a life, when the truth is, I’m just messy.



"Don't be content with being average. Average is as close to the bottom as it is to the top."

Jane blogs as "Mamacita" at Scheiss Weekly, hitting the fan like nobody can.


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