April 26, 2012

Sad Sacks

You know what are some really sad sacks?  Boobs after babies.  For the love of God.  These suckers just get sadder by the day.  They’re like empty bags of milk, or my favorite of all time: fried eggs on nails.  Exactly.

Imagine two right next to each other. For those who don't follow, just trust me on this one.

A sad state of affairs really.  Never before have fake ta-ta’s seemed so, I donno, logical.

I’ve never been blessed with a huge rack, but I was fine with my tiny, and ever so perky set.  But man, these kids have really done a number on me.   I keep on breastfeeding half for my kid and half for myself.  At least that gives me a little lift…in the morning anyway.   And once breastfeeding is over for realzies, I’m in trouble.  I tend to look like a teenage boy.  So I think I’ll keep going til Kierian’s fifteen.  I am from Boulder after all.

Just feelin’ thankful today for the push-up bra…

May 15, 2011

My Asana Kicks Your Asana’s Ass

Check out my latest posting on Elephant Journal.  And watch as I get my ass chewed to shreds in the comment section…

My Asana Kicks Your Asana’s Ass

He he.

August 10, 2010

Wing Man

My youngest brother Conor, who is hilarious and amazing, told me the other day that he is like the ideal Wing Man when heading out on the town.  As he and his friends stumble into another bar, they all notice the hot brunette with the boobs, rocking Uggs and shorts that scream Colorado on the be-hind.  The usual.

While his friends drool, Conor peers to the side.  “And who,” he proclaims loudly to the heartily boob-ed “is your friend?”  He asks while pointing to her loyal pal, sitting to her left drinking straight Jack Daniels.  The one with the shaved head, black lipstick and studded collar…

Apparently that’s his type.  He is indeed the perfect Wing Man.  “Show me the butch-est woman in the bar,” he told me “And I’ll show you true love.”

Love it.

I was kind of thinking that I could offer a similar service to my single friends.  Bring me out to a bar and if I get hit on, I’ll just start talking about the milk my boobs have produced.  That seems to keep most men at an arm’s length.

April 26, 2010

Bringing My Breast Pump to India..A Poem

I’m bringing my breast pump to India
Indeed it is true.
You may think I’m an idiot,
Well, I think I’m one too.

Pumping on and Indian train and at the Taj Mahal,
It seems no matter where I pump, I’ll be hot as balls.

And when my milk is all dried up
despite my best attempt,
My pump will look me in the eyes and say:
I’m just so glad we went.”


September 22, 2009

Boob Club

Okay.  Okay.  I know.  This blog has become more of me writing about boobs than anything else.  But I can’t stop.  And this might be one of the last.  Maybe.

So, last Friday my dear friend Kendra and her sweet baby Ada May, Cora and I decided we would venture out to the local Boulder “Breastfeeding Club.”  Apparently, it is where new moms go to get advice on breastfeeding, any infant related issues, and to meet other new moms.

I have the most amazing girlfriends in the world.  I don’t necessarily see the need to make tons more.  But it’s nice to meet other moms who are going through some of the same craziness as I am.  So, in that regard, I am on the market.  I haven’t had to ‘make new friends’ since college.  I kind of feel like Peter Klaven from I Love You Man when he goes on all his man-dates looking for bromance.  (PS-See this movie).  But, I am trying to be open to it.

At any rate, we walk down the hall towards the room where Boob Club is hosted and before we even enter, we see a line of like 40 strollers outside the door.  I kid you not.  We walk in.  Picture this:  40 new moms and their lil prized possessions smashed into a stuffy hospital conference room.  Babies crying, some moms gossiping with one another, some moms sitting alone in the corner gushing over their babies, and ALL moms with at least one boob hangin’ out in plain view, most of them without baby attached.   Hell, some moms had their entire tops off.

Ah Boulder. Where the liberal, boob-bearing yuppies romp.  While I would not consider myself a modest chick, I have to admit, this made me blush.  Boobs, boobs, everywhere.  Kendra so perfectly pointed out upon entering that she: “could think of at least a dozen guys who would LOVE to be a part of this club.”  But I still wasn’t sure if I was hip enough.

Nevertheless, we tried to sit down and mingle, open to a new ‘mommy-mance’.

I donno about you, but it is hard for me to look someone in the eye when their, you know, is staring right back at me.   And it is next to impossible to ignore the lady with the double E’s whose baby is choking and sputtering while she tries to have an intellectual conversation about infant development with her neighbor.  My baby doesn’t quite have that problem.

I left Boob Club that day feeling a couple of things.  One:  WTF?  Two: my D’s now C’s aren’t half what I thought they were.  And three: I think I need to find another club to join.

September 3, 2009

A Hair in My Food…

So, Luke has started helping me feed baby Cora.  And my God, is it making a difference.

No, no, it’s not what you’re thinking:

He’s been BOTTLE FEEDING her.

And truly, it has been amazing.  He feeds her one bottle at night and she sleeps for a good 5-6 hours, which feels like forever.

As a result, I am able to be more human during the day.  I do things now that I haven’t done in weeks:

-I wash my face

-I eat full meals

-I shower

All the ‘extras’ in life…

August 20, 2009

My Milkshake…

Before pregnancy, on a good day, I was a “B” cup bra.  However, after baby Cora blessed the world with her presence, something miraculous happened.  Something I never imagined possible.  My fibbed “B” went to a “D” over night.  Luke took a few photos to document this miracle.

Cora August 2009 014

My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.  Damn right.