Got hot?

So, pretty damn much on cue, the minute I turned 50 last week, not only did I become even more lovely, powerful, smart and attractive, but the dreaded hot flushes hit. Jeez frigging, Louise. Don’t we women put up with enough crap? Weight issues, periods, sore boobs, men who don’t realize how amazing we are, Tim Tams not on sale, clothes sizes we know should fit us but clearly the stupid manufacturer has labelled them incorrectly, excess lust, no lust, coffee deemed bad, chocolate not good for you, all this talk of being a goddess and empowerment despite the fact we have been empowered for years but hid it to make men feel better, leg shaving and stray facial hair - when all we really want is a sit down, have a chat and a bitch with our bestie while consuming empty calories - and now this sudden surge of pukeable heat that I’m thinking is the devil inducing me on to evil…not that I can’t find it without his help of course.

Women – we’re bloody amazing creatures who put up with a lot.     

Limp handbags with knobs on them…

So, I was thinking today, at the gym, when I had just finished having a shower and I was having one of those moments when standing naked with your hands behind your back, and it’s not some kinky, sexual thing, but more you can’t put one hook into one eye of your bra despite the fact you’ve been doing it for a zillion years, and I wondered what would happen if all women did away with bras and we just let them all hang loose. Would men be as interested in boobs that hang down like limp handbags with knobs on them? Would we start reading about heroines who still fall in love despite having 40DD’s, back pain, nipple rash on their knees and nipples sticking out through the fabric on their midriff because their boobs were no longer hydraulically up there either through cunning lyrca or the innocence of bouncy youth? Would celebrities go to plastic surgeons anymore? Would we just buy oversized pants and tuck our boobs in at the top leaving our shoulders free because we’ve always had nice shoulders? Would we unite as women because we would no longer be imprisoned by the lace confines of bras?

Nah, probably not.   

Boob-consumed...

I don’t understand why women get so het up and over emotional about men looking at other women. They’re gonna do it. Making an issue out of it makes it worse. And asking them ‘why are you looking at her?’ I believe nailing jelly to the wall would be less angst ridden and who needs the non-creative 

excuses that if you had to scorecard them you would give the poor dears a 2 out of 10. Men look. That’s the way their brains work. Ooh look – boobs. Ooh, look more boobs. Ooh, look – are they boobs? You gotta feel a tad sorry really. Their minds are boob-consumed. This is why women are the stronger sex. We have boobs and therefore we have the power...as it should be. 

Hydraulic equipment...

So, I was at the bra sale today buying the only brand of bra I will now wear as it’s hydraulically fashioned to pull my double d’s up from my knees and force them to sit all perky like where they used to before gravity kicked in.  Gravity - what a bastard. Anyway, while I hunted for my size – and may I say how pleased I am that manufacturers are actually making sizes that are for extra voluptuous ladies. I think as women, myself included, who can find our size pretty easily we forget there are some women who are discriminated against because of their size. So well done to bra manufacturers who are getting it right. Okay, back to DD’s…anyway I had several dozen possible bras I might buy – snatched them up before any other sale goer could grab them – got to be fast and furious at bra sales – and I was deciding which I wanted when this girl of 10 or so and her mother wandered past. The mother was looking for bras. The kid was asking what size she was. The mum said 16C. The young girl was agog at the thought of a C cup. “That’s huge mum. Are you sure you’re that big?” Ah youth. You can just see this kid in another couple of years lamenting her boobs aren’t big enough. Boobs…the trial and tribulations of. Men have no idea...it’s not just about the bounce boys.     

I’m fascinated…

…with these TV adverts where a bunch of yanks, usually with incredibly false smiles, appear on Aussie TV and try and tell me, a woman who has worn a bra since she was 11 years old that they have come up with this whizz bang phenomenal bra that will change my life and I can throw all the others away and live my life in harmony. If that’s not enough to make me want to buy it they then trot women who have supposedly bought what is effectively a sports bra to announce how this bra has changed their lives for the better and they are so much happier with their boobs. Here’s what I think. We send a load of Ah Bras and Genie Bras over to the various warring hotspots in the world and we dump loads of them out of helicopters because they seem to make everyone incredibly happy and fulfilled. I believe if they can make every woman on the planet happy with their boobs – massively huge undertaking that - then truly they should be used for world peace. Mr Obama? Are you listening? Probably cheaper than bullets and you get three different colours for one fantastic price…try it. If you’re not happy they’ll refund your money. Can you do that with bullets?

Got boobs? Use 'em....

So, I was at the shops and I passed the food court and I saw a sight that made me stop and ponder. There was this very blonde, curvaceous woman in a short skirt and tight top. She was balancing two plates of food - one in one hand and one on her inner forearm and in the other hand she had 2 bottles of Pepsi and some serviettes. A man, her companion, followed close behind her carrying some cutlery. He was not the slightest bit burdened and he was just an average Joe. Now, this made me ponder several things…1. It is indeed a fact that only women can multi-task - and 2 - Lordy woman, you've got him following you, get him to carry stuff. Sexist? Yes. But I say if you've got boobs use 'em.

Of boobs and Humpenagelfelderkirks...

I always have the radio on in the car. Two talk shows had me pondering stuff today. The AM one was talking about is it right for a man to look at a woman’s breasts? The answer is no but of course a man is going to look as he’s genetically inclined to so why bother asking the question I say? Then they brought up women who have breast implants to boost the size of their boobs and do those women have any right to complain if a man stares at them when technically they had enhanced them – usually to an extreme state – for them to be noticeable - so is a woman putting her boobs out there to be stared at? Really good question. The feminist in me says a woman can do what she bloody wants to her body and men need to get a grip. Would a man want people staring at his groin and trying to work out length? The other side of the coin is if a woman has implants to make herself look better she should expect men will stare at her overly fake breasts so deal with it. Hmmm…that’s a valid point too. My theory on boobs is they're essentially fatty tissue so ipso facto fat thighs, arses, arms and bellies should be given the same adoring stare by men as they do boobs.

The PM discussion…whether a woman should invest in a relationship with a man if he had a surname she didn’t like regardless how much she loved him. That is if she was viewing him as a potential husband but he had a weird surname like Humpenagelfelderkirk (apologies to Humpenagelfelderkirks out there) is she justified dumping him? A lot of woman called into the show and said that had ended relationships because of the man’s surname. My thoughts? People spend years looking for love. Some never find it. If you love someone enough to marry them and be with them for life but you hate their surname? Bloody use your own.

Sometimes it all comes down to boobs…

I was at the gym lifting weights – I do that after cardio – why? I don’t know…something to do with not being a weak arsed old lady years from now. Anyway, I was taught the correct way to lift weights. It’s all about pushing your breasts forward. As I was lifting this morning I thought about that and really, for a woman, it’s always comes down to boobs.

How so you ask? Well, if we’re not thrusting them forward to lift weights, we’re putting them out their to entice, confuse and mesmerize. They give comfort, they excite and while they’re a pain in the arse nuisance at times, they give us a power over men that is priceless. How so? When a man is staring at your breasts he can’t see what plans and schemes for world domination are formulating in your eyes. I like that…

Amarinda Jones
Penn Halligan
www.amarindajones.com
www.amarindajones.blogspot.com
Be daring...read an Amarinda book

Tits and wits...

I was in a situation where someone, a woman, was trying to make me feel inferior. How was she doing this? Well, it was quite funny really. She had mass cleavage on display. Now, this probably had the attention of the men in the room but I just thought ‘Oh, you have to be kidding. Is that the best you have? Physical assets?’ Yeah, I could have out cleveaged her in a shoot out if I wanted to. And yeah, sometimes boobs win a battle but not the war. I’m not adverse to using cleavage on a man to get what I want. But with another woman who has the same weapons as me? Nope. Save it sister. I’d rather match wits than tits with you. Sure, use your natural assets but choose your victims.

Amarinda Jones
Penn Halligan
www.amarindajones.com
www.amarindajones.blogspot.com
Be daring...read an Amarinda book

It gets you in the boobs…

THE hot favourite to win the Miss Plastic title this weekend was forced to pull out of the competition after her breast implants landed her in hospital.

A friend said: 'She had not got used to the extra weight on top and her new hair extensions got in her eyes - she just lost her balance and tore a ligament in her foot badly.'

http://www.news.com.au/story/0,27574,26197698-13762,00.html

OMG…I can completely relate to this…other than the fact I’m not blonde, not tall, not attractive nor do I have plastic parts nor hair extensions…but for that I completely understand the hopeful Miss Plastic’s dilemma. It’s almost like we are living the same life.

In the never ending madness called personal training, utilizing the theory that I will be able to kick major arse when I’m older, I have just discovered I have pecs. I know – I was stunned. I mean I knew men had them but the idea of pecs seemed kind of pointless on women as we have other stuff happening in the chest region. Anyway, I have been lifting weights under the command of the lovely Hugh – my PT. I said to him “my upper chest is killing me.” I indicated where. He said they were my pecs and he indicated he was exceptionally happy about this as personal trainers think pain is good. Pain is bad to the jaded and slothful such as myself. Sure, you’re burning fat into muscle but like the Miss Plastic wannabe, it gets you in the boobs.

Pecs are apparently just above your boobs and all women have these muscles but it’s only when you’re in pain do you realize what the hell they are. I took my bra off today and staggered. Oh the freaking pain. I was scared I would fall forward and trip over when my strained pec muscles nearly collapsed under the weight of holding my boobs up. I feel this makes me completely simpatico with the Miss Plastics of the world. I, short, overweight, non-blonde, only one dimple and crooked lipped, can understand my plastic sister’s torture.

www.amarindajones.com
www.amarindajones.blogspot.com
Be daring...read an Amarinda book

Busting out..

I had cleavage issues at work today. It’s been most annoying. Why? Well, I don't want to look at or deal with my cleavage. Who would? But it's been ‘out there’ and I have spent all day trying to cover it. I have a habit of buying clothes too many sizes too large...yeah, it's stupid but there it is. Call it a throw back to the fat days…you never forget ‘em. Anyway, I had this top on that was loose – okay too big - but it never occurred to me that because it was larger that the neckline would be lower - hence the boobage issue. So it's been a day of pulling up fabric and placing a hand over the spillage when I’ve leant over. I can't concentrate with an expanse of cleavage in my face.

And, I'm actually blaming the boobage issue on forgetting to save part of the book I had written at work. All that fat white flesh pushed up and in was disconcerting to my gentle soul. I believe it blinded me and I lost consciousness for a moment and forgot to hit ‘save.’ Boobs - really what is the point of them? But I did learn two lessons. Buy a smaller size in clothes and no writer worth their salt forgets to hit save. And yes, I did spent several fruitless work hours – well, I’m sure the bosses would have wanted me to if they knew - searching the network to find what was lost. But it’s gone to god or some IT guy is wondering ‘what the hell is she doing to him and how can he do that without getting a cramp and are some women that bendy?’ Such is life. Boobs – they’re dangerous. Watch out for them and save, save, save.

www.amarindajones.com
www.amarindajones.blogspot.com
Be daring...read an Amarinda book

To cleave or not to cleave…

I tried this swimsuit on – normally I would say I tried some cozzies on but you would probably have no idea what a cozzie was so I will say a swimsuit for those with less colourful languages. Anyway, I loved the boardshort type shorts – short but they covered what I wanted covered – excellent. Then I tried on this halter neck tankini top – it actually look pretty damn good too – I was quite surprised…however…and there is always one – there was a hell of a lot of cleavage on display – yikes! While in all likelihood I would wear a t-shirt over the top of my cozzies – er, swimsuit – due to the fact I burn really fast and skin cancer is no friend of mine - the whole cleavage thing had me wondering. Do I have enough guts to carry this off?

While I am pretty bloody daring, the thought of that much boobage on display and the possibility it may explode out of the cups it was positioned in, at any moment, and maybe knock someone’s eyes out, was scary. It made me wonder about people who have mega cleavage always on display. Is it that they’re incredibly confident, are the securely taped in or do they not care if they blacken an eye with a projectile nipple?

And to be honest, I don’t want to see that much of me on display. I know what I’ve got. I don’t want to see it out there – so to speak. So I decided against the halter neck as I didn’t want to hurt someone and no, I don’t have the type of courage to let it all hang out. Some things, to my mind, are better left to the imagination and boobs once spilled are not forgotten.

**Cozzie = swimming costume

Click here – I dedicate this to the Frog Queen – I have never doubted your perseverance, persistence and strength. We owe you more than you will ever realize.

www.amarindajones.com
www.amarindajones.blogspot.com
Go Ahead : Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?