BREASTS

Tits. Melons. Ta-tas. Boobies. Hooters. Yabos. Cones. Rockets. Guns. Scuds. Whatever you want to call 'em, doesn't matter. If I could change ONE THING about my body, that would be it. Seriously. It ain't pretty. After two babies, some serious growing (then shrinking), nursing and stretching - doesn't exactly make them nice to look at. I've never been self-conscious of the size - I'm ok with that part. It's the stretching and saggy part that I don't like anymore.

Why is it they don't make bathing suite & bikinis with the kind of "lift" that a good bra has? I've never spent $100 on a bra - but I sure did on a bikini that still isn't very flattering in that area. WTF? I think I missed my calling as a swimsuit designer.

A couple weeks ago, I went to lunch with a contractor that I know through my work. We (or he) decided to go to Earls on Robson, namely because of the "eye candy" there. I went for it. I think we spent about 80% of our lunch conversation on the "are they real?" conversation regarding our server. It made me wonder: what is society's obsession with big, beautiful breasts? And why is it that we just have to know if they're real or fake? Because really, when I get mine, I don't care if people are guessing whether they're real or not. The only thing I'll care about is that they'll be wonderful, beautiful, I'll be able to wear those tank tops with the "shelf bra" (shelf? seriously?) and not have to still wear a bra underneath in hopes of keeping the girls above my belly-button, and they'll be (like in the Seinfeld episode) F-A-B-U-L-O-U-S.

However, here you can read a great story on the one's God gave me and how I love to show them off in public.

Hope

espoir


I took that off my kleenex box. It's "hope" in French, for those who are not bilingual. Yes, I purchased a Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation kleenex box. Totally random, but thought I'd share it.


Once again, I received a word and mulled it over and over in my head. And all I could ask myself was "What is the first thing you think of when you see the word 'hope'?". I actually wanted to ask my children, but they weren't there. So then I thought of what the word would mean to a 4-year old and then a 9-year old - and not any kids, but mine in particular. Here's what I came up with:


Top ten things my 4-year-old daughter "hope's" for:

10) That she can to wear a dress tomorrow

9) That we're having mashed potatoes with dinner

8) That we'll go for a walk and end up at the playground later

7) That she'll get to play with Meghan - her 10-year-old friend that lives across the lane

6) That her best friend Kira will be at daycare tomorrow so they can play together all day

5) That Papa will come over and bring her chocolate

4) That she'll be allowed to sleep in my bed tonight

3) That she can wear her "flip-flops" until the end of time

2) That she'll be allowed to stay up and watch "So You Think You Can Dance" tonight

And the #1 thing that Olivia hopes for on a daily basis:

1) That Mommy is picking her up today

And for Evan:

10) That we'll be going camping soon

9) That one day, he'll go on a cruise ship

8) That the Titanic will be raised one day

7) That his buddy Cameron will like all his new Pyrate Lego

6) That he gets the Black Pearl for Christmas

5) That he gets a cool teacher for grade 4

4) That if Juneau is in Heaven, that he's with Kaine (yes, he actually did say that to me - the kid's deep)

3) That I eventually put the little TV in his room

2) That he can mow the lawn again and Papa will give him money for helping

And the #1 thing that my 9-year-old hope's for:

1) That he'll get to go to a Canucks game next season.

And my hope? That my children remain healthy and happy and keep dreaming.

Survivor

As I sat here pondering my very first Blog Off subject, I realized that I am totally not cut out for this type of thing. I rolled this word "Survivor" around in my head until I actually started singing the Destiny's Child song out loud. I don't even like Destiny's Child.

The next thing that came to my head was the show Survivor. Yes I watch it. Yes I like it. But do I want to blog about it? Uh, not really. All I want in relation to the show is when I get voted out of the Blog Off, maybe I can be told "The tribe has spoken".

So finally, in chatting with a friend about it, I came up with the trip I took with Carly and the kids to Victoria to see the Titanic exhibit at the Royal BC Museum. What came to mind is when we were all given replica boarding passes of real passengers that were actually on the doomed ship. At the end of the tour we were given a chance to look at the list of survivors and lo and behold, I was the only one that didn't survive. The other three thought it was a hoot. Sadistic? Possibly. But is that telling me something?

I admit - I really hummed and hawed (sp?) about joining the Blog Off. What did it for me is basically that it's for a short period of time and also it's for a very good cause. Then I thought to myself, ableit briefly, that maybe I'll shape up my blog that was dying a slow death. Perhaps some people, other than my 2 or 3 regulars that only check to see if I've done anything lately, will start reading it again. And just maybe, I'll come out of this a Blog Survivor. (Cheesy? Um yeah, read my archives...)