Friday, May 05, 2006

(Wardrobe Mal) Function

I don't Make Friends with Girls very easily.

Well, it's True. I Don't. All my life, however, I have Easily Befriended The Boys. My closest friend growing up may have been The Girl Who Lived Across The Street, but it was really Her Brother Who Was In My Class that I like to play with The Most. Her Brother and I would Build Radios Together and Enjoyed Discussing Star Wars and The Tragic Death Of Thurman Munson, and we could spend hours Debating Whether The Reggie Bar or The Baby Ruth Was The Greatest Candy Bar Ever Concocted. The Girl Who Lived Across The Street just liked to Talk About Boys and Listed To Kim Carnes Records all the time. As I grew older, I Got Along/Fell In Love with with All The Gay Boys, which was Quite Easy, due to My Style-Conscious Attitude and Dazzling Drag Queen-Like Personality. Maturing into my late 20's, I discovered I had A Hold Over The Straight Boys, too, as long as I Smiled and Showed Them How Funny and Charming I Could Be.

Whenever I am at some sort of Soiree or Function where I Don't Really Know Anyone, I have discovered that None Of The Girls Really Ever Talk To Me. This afternoon, for example, I had my Fifth Graders give Their Final Presentations To Their Parents and when it was Through, all The Dads approached me, actually Forming A Line, to tell me How Much They Enjoyed The Performance and offer A Lingering Handshake. The Moms, on the other hand Stood Against The Back Wall Of The Classroom and just Eyeballed Me. One asked me where I Bought My Shoes and Sneered. The Others just Glared. Then, Last night, I was at A Cocktail Party where I knew Not A Soul. And, None Of The Girls attempted to Talk To Me. But, of course, All The Boys did.

In the middle of Last Night's Cocktailing Festivities, A Girl I Had Never Met approached me and leaned close to Whisper In My Ear. "How Exciting!" I thought. "A Girl Wants To Tell Me A Secret! I hope it is about Brad And Angelina!" However, what she said into My Ear was, "I don't know if you know this or not, but Your Breasts Are Falling Out Of Your Dress." Instantly, I looked down. Oh. My. God. Was I Unintentionally Pulling A Tara Reid?!! The Shame!! But, when I quickly glanced down and scanned The Aforementioned Area, all I saw was Cleavage. I mean, My Normal Cleavage. There didn't seem to be Anything Out Of The Ordinary Occurring.

"Oh, Thanks For Telling Me," I giggled. What else is A Girl To Do In Such A Situation? I had to Laugh It Off. Yet, although I had Exposed Nothing, I felt Fully Embarrassed.

After this exchange, I immediately retreated to The Ladies' Room In A Frenzy to do The Bend Over Breast Check. In case you don't know, The Bend Over Breast Check is when One Bends Over and Checks To See If One's Boobies Fall Out Of One's Bra. As someone with Substantial Cleavage, I Am An Expert At The Bend Over Breast Check. I do it Every Night, Every Morning, And at least Once After Every Meal. As I always do, because I Own Magical Bras, I Passed the Bend Over Breast Check with Flying Colors. But, just to make sure I had it at The Correct Angle, I Hopped Up And Down, Shimmied and Did It Again, which is what I refer to as The X-Check. Still: Pass!

As I returned to The Gathering, I discovered My Humiliation had shifted to Anger. Basically, This Woman Whom I Had Never Met Before decided she didn't care for My Large Breasts of perhaps The Dress I Was Wearing and decided to Make Me Feel Really Bad About It. Maybe she thought she was Doing Me Some Sort Of Favor. But, it wasn't like My Fly Was Open! This wasn't Nipplegate! Instantly, I was reminded of 4th Grade When I Had To Change In Gym Class But I Was The Only Girl Who Had Boobies Already And Had No Choice But To Wear A Bra And All The Girls Made Fun Of Me In The Locker Room And I Would Spend The Entire PE Class Period Crouched In An Abandoned Shower Stall Sobbing. And when The Gym Teacher Called My MOM, I remember My MOM escorting me home and sitting me down and attempting to comfort me with These Words, "They are Just Boobs, The Daily Randi…They are Just BOOOOOOOOBS."

Deciding it was time for One Last Cocktail, I approached the bar upon My Return. And, of course, A Boy saw me standing there alone and Began To Chat With Me. By now, I was Totally Self-Conscious. But, Not Once did I sense he was Talking or Looking at My Chest. Even if he was, So Be It. With My Peripheral Vision, I eyed The Rest of the Girls whispering and giggling on the lounge sofas. And, I felt Sad because I knew They Were Never Going To Talk To Me. Which was A Real Shame because I Am A Totally Interesting Person! The Boys all Learned This Last Night. But The Girls Shall Never Know.

In the end, though, it Doesn't Matter. After all, as My MOM had informed me long, long ago, “They Are Just Boobs, The Daily Randi.... They Are Just BOOOOOOBS."

And now, at 36, I get that maybe she didn't necessarily mean My Tits.

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