Boobs

Alright, well, you can tell from the title that this is about to be awesome.

I'm just going to come right out and apologize to any members of my family who may be embarrassed by me as a human by the end of this post. Or close/any friends, for that matter. I have full confidence that you'll recover.

I was just talking to a dear, dear friend from Toronto (who's about to have a baby, woot!), telling him a little tale, and he said that I absolutely had to post it on my blog. So, here I am, heeding no warning from that little angel sitting on my left shoulder. I'll start from the beginning.

When I got off of the plane in Bermuda, I wasn't scared, I wasn't nervous, I was excited off of my face. That's not even a thing, but me thinks you get the point.

On just my second day on the island, I was walking along a busy beach when I was stopped by a handsome gentleman (perhaps gentleman will be debated by the end of this story) who complimented me on my height, and my smile. I thought, "Wow, in just two days and I've met a nice guy to raise a family with." Psych! (Fresh Prince style), that's not at all what I thought, but, it was nice to receive a compliment nonetheless.

Then, as the conversation continued, he commented on my boobs, to my boobs, four times in a row, without getting the hint from the 6'4" woman towering over him, who'd tilted her head and made a "... for serious?" face, that perhaps there were more appropriate things to be said.

That conversation ended there.

Later that day, actually the same day, just three minutes later, I walked over to the bar to purchase a diet Coke when the bartender said, "What can I get for you sweety?" It wasn't so much how he said it, but that he appeared just physically unable to say it to my face.

That conversation ended there.

Sidebar. Lightbulb moment. I think I may have a t-shirt made that says "My other face is my bOObs", because that appears to be the consensus. Only $14.99, get 'em while they're hot (for serious, it's really hot here)!

Let me interject at this point and state that I have been asked by three separate people here in Bermuda, whether I am extremely religious. When I said "No", "Who me?" and "Oh, you must mean the nun standing behind me?", and then asked why they thought that, they said that it was because I wore long skirts and shirts that covered almost everything. So, no, I'm not running around all front-cover-of-Maxim or anything.

About a week later I was sitting at nice little pub, enjoying a cold glass of water on the patio, quite enthralled with people watching, when a man just came over and sat down... across from me... without an invite, even a little. A bold man, a good thing, but for serious? Blah, blah, blah, you know where this goes, boobs, boobs, blah, boobs.

Then, I went on the ferry last weekend, and was chatting with a guy who collects the tokens and BOOBS! You know the rest, this post is officially soggy.

I'll end this extremely out-of-character post by saying this, men (and women), boobs exist, get over it. Or be smart about it like women are, buy dark sunglasses, and keep them on :D

- Miss you Jer and Christi!