Boobs, Tattoos and Twenty-something Girls

buttYesterday I went to my gym, put on my sports bra, black shorts and  semi tight purple tee-shirt.

A wonderful friend of mine…who is in her mid-twenties said something like”God your boobs are huge today.”

I sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I thought about  putting on a black tee shirt..”

“No way, your boobs are awesome. .”

Boobs, breasts, ta-tas, hooligans we all call them something different because almost every body seems to like boobs. All shapes and sizes.

The strange thing is women under 35 treat boobs and their bodies differently.  They will show you just about anything at anytime.

A couple of months ago I was talking to a 22 year old friend who is also my client, IN HER OFFICE. She’s a beautiful tiny girl.  We started talking about tattoos and Heather suddenly said, “Oh, I just got a new one last week, you want to see?”

“Sure,” I said innocently.

Heather jumped up, came around  the desk, and pulled down her  dress pants and poked her tiny little butt right at me. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

She was wearing a lacy purple thong. A lovely sailing ship with a big sail was blowing across her right cheek.

I wasn’t offended just a little shocked and I  realize, once again, girls in their twenties are different. They think about bodies differently.

Boobs, boob jobs and tattoos are something to be proud of, to they talk about them and show off body parts with friendly ease.

Today girls say, “Look how great my boobs are!”

Thirty years ago we used to think stuff like that, that but we generally didn’t say it…out loud….to clients and business partners who are total grown-ups.

Girls and women have changed…but thankfully, I don’t think boys have. Guys still want and think and do the same stuff they used to.  They just want to eat, play their guitars really loud and look at boobs.


Culture vs Cowbells….Hear that Bell Ringing?

No, I don’t want a lovely glass of Merlot, instead I think I slug down this warm paper cup full of Gatorade.

That’s my life right now.

I’m too busy with happy redneck/family stuff and never have time to take my kids to any of the brilliant, quality, cultural events in my hometown.

Hot Springs, Arkansas is a magnificent spa city with music, art even hot air balloon festivals, galleries and countless affordable cultural events. I read about them, I drive past them and I think how wonderful it would be to take the kids to the Friday Night Gallery Walks. They would have fun and learn about fine art.

But there’s not a snowballs chance in hell we can do that on a Friday night. We’re not missing the Fountain Lake football games. I even have a purple cow bell to ring violently when we make a few yards. And more importantly, I’m not missing the amazing Cobra marching band at half time show or the chance to win a smoked pork butt, courtesy of the FFA.

This weekend Hot Springs hosts the 20th Annual Documentary Film Festival. film makers arrive from all over the planet and a day pass to watch all sorts of stunning and fascinating films is just $20. But we have to work the PTO Carnival ring toss booth and Sandor has his third grade football games on Saturday. Around four I have to start the “laundry train”. Every weekend I do at least ten loads of laundry to get us all caught up, because there’s no time during the week.

After church on Sunday morning I really wanted to take a hike with the National Park rangers. They were going to teach us how to find arrow heads, but that’s when I have to do the two hour killer “Wal-Mart/Kroger, get some more Little Debbie Snack Cakes” shopping run, then take Lexie to do her knee workouts.

Sometimes, I feel as though I’m missing life as it whoooshes past. But that’s not true. This is my beautiful cowbell ringing, Hot Pocket eating “Mom can you help me get my cup in my pants” life. Good thing I kind of like warm Gatorade.