Monday, October 24, 2005

Breast Strokes

Remember when Women's Liberation officially began?
Remember the glow of bra-fed bonfires and the mass suicides of undergarment manufacturers?
When the aroma of burning rubber that wafted over the land was the smell of cataclysmic change - the first direct frontal assault on male chauvinism?
Now that the issue isn't as prominent as it used to be, I have a confession to make.
I didn't burn my bra.
I just couldn't coincide the idea of being in the limelight with having a low profile.
Now, before any antique libbers nastily denounce me, let me assure you that I am A Liberated Woman. A Sister in the Struggle against Male Domination.
Why, all through International Women's Year I didn't sleep a wink. It just wouldn't do, to my mind, to have nocturnal fancies about my maidenform bra.
And I went through my dictionary to expunge any traces of sexist language. It wasn't easy. "Maidenhair fern" and "boysenberry" caused me no end of trouble. I never did figure out what I was going to do with that word about a bird called a "titmouse."
And I almost got one of those tight T-shirts with the slogan "Stop staring at my tits."
And let me assure all feminists that I still do everything in my power to prevent men from viewing me as a sex object.
I bought that straight off.
Normal men don't have sex with an object.
But my bra, no.
I'm very sorry. It's just that I happen to think that the bra is one of the most pratical items of female apparel ever devised. Gravity is natural too, you see, so I avoid it.
How else are you going to keep the things hoisted out of your bouillabaise?
A bra provides protection - and not just from burns ( see above) or from tweaking fingers in dark theatres. Just ask any woman who has walked into a door when not wearing one. Ooooh.
And have you ever tried running, or even worse, jogging without a bra?
I know one girl who got the most terrible bruises on her chin.
Lots of eye strain in her neighbourhood, too.
Hatpins were once banned in public because of the number of accidental stabbings on streetcars. Consider the mayhem a free and unbound size 42DD could inflict if the owner sprints for the subway in the middle of an unsuspecting crowd? What would they call it...assault and possession of a deadly weapon? Of course, the culprit might be difficult to apprehend...
Imagine the ensuing dialogue from an incident of savage breast:
Victim:"Came at me like a madwoman, Officer...She hit me!"
Officer:"Hmmm, bad bruise there. Can you describe her?"
Victim holds hands apart.
Oficer: "No, I mean what did she look like, her face."
Victim: "Face?"
But I digress.
Sorry, girls, I'll stick with Shakespeare(again) and "Truth hath a quiet breast."

8 comments:

Ric said...

Wow! Off to a bouncy start this morning! Very funny.
Watched a clown in the dunk tank at the State Fair, hurling insults at a gal, getting her to spend more and more money trying to dunk him. When he hollered, "She's got a living bra and no way to support it.", she threw the ball at his head, then jumped the fence and pushed the target with her hand.

Keep 'em coming, Bonnie needs a new keyboard.

nessili said...

LOL! Yup, couldn't live without the ol' over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder. I do Irish Dancing--can you imagine the havoc if Erin Go Bragh became Erin Go Bragh-less?

Love your blog. Keep the wit and wisdom coming...

Mark Pettus said...

My grampa used say my Uncle Bill was as useless as tits on a boar hog. Now, Uncle Bill was pretty useless, but it was that boar hog that had me worried.

No wonder Gramps spent so damned much time out in the pigpen.

Bernita said...

Another case of the savage breast,I guess, Ric, and thank you.
Thank you, Nessile. One thing for certain, no one would be watching your feet!
Mark, what a peculiar direction the subject took your thoughts...

Bonnie Calhoun said...

Oh, oh, oh....Bernita.....two points girlfriend, I overshot the keyboard and got the picture on the wall....

You must realize that it is a plot of male dominance...The over the shoulder boulder holder...was developed by a MAN.

Yeah...ric...I got smart and got one of those sneeze shields like they put on salad bars!

Bernita said...

Bonnie, love, wonder if he was "in his cups" (as the regency writers are wont to say) when he devised it...???
And, er..um...ah...Bonnie? Please tell me you don't eat salad at the keyboard???

Bonnie Calhoun said...

Well, I have been know to dribble steak sauce betweet the keys. I've become an expert with tissue edges and Q-tips....but the sneeze shield is for the coffee. Just as I think I've got the hang of drinking and laughing....I come over here.....ROFLMAO

Mark Pettus said...

And such peculiar thoughts they were.

What exactly was I drinking yesterday?