Saggy Boobs

Wow, there is a whole section on saggy boobs, under a Tag search, on WordPress. And, yesterday someone found Ms. Delirious from the saggy boob page. That ‘s got to be a first!

I’ve had comments on my boobs before, but of course no man, in his right mind, would dare tell a woman she had saggy boobs.  Unless they’d been married for years, or he had little hope of ever, ever… EVER bedding her! Of course, I don’t believe I ever said that I had saggy ones… I think that was one of my commenters.

So, let’s shift the focus here. Question for my readers. Ladies: would you ever admit to having saggy boobs? Has the man in your life ever told you that?

Gentlemen: Would you, have you ever told a woman she had saggy boobs? And, if so please share with us how that went… Details please.

Somewhere Between Spring Chicken and Nursing Home Bound

Being in our 50′s is a funny place. I did a quick perusal of my ‘followers’ a small but loyal group considering I’m such a young soul… in terms of this blog. And, all of you look to be in that same place I am… a little less nimble, a few gray hairs and other age related ailments.

It ain’t easy being here.  I had a conversation recently with my favorite bartender… I only have one…. about why I don’t like him to call me “Ma’am”.  He thinks it’s funny… I tried to explain that the issue was not about manners and courtesy, but rather about my concept of myself as an aging woman.  I have children and I expect them to say Yes sir and Yes ma’am to their elders. And, there are times when I want that same respect shown to me… but not in a bar. All the eligible men will hear that and think I’m over the hill. Actually the bar isn’t one of those types, I go there for the atmosphere and the availability of conversation w/ friends. Never met a guy there. And, because it’s my “home base”  I wouldn’t want a prospective beau to know about it… I learned that one from past experience.

Back to the “Ma’am” thing… I finally told the bartender that I didn’t want him calling me that because we’re friends. Simple answer which worked. And, it’s true. He’s a sweet guy, young enough to think that he should be calling old farts like me something respectful.

The aging thing is so odd. Remember Van Halen, and the Tommy Lee Roth song, Hot for Teacher? She tells him he’s tardy. He says ” I don’t feel tardy.” (Sudden realization that DiNozzo from NCIS is a lot like Tommy Lee Roth!)  Well, I don’t feel old. I don’t look old or act old and I don’t want to go there… not quite yet. Yes, I’m now a grandmother, but… jeans are my default mode, and a night out might involve a sexy low cut top and a bit of lace.

Once my boobs get all saggy and wrinkly, like a balloon that’s half deflated then I’ll stop with the low cut tops and trade in my black lace bra for a Playtex Cross Your Heart. But for now? No way!