Love, Jimmie

Remember that post where I talked about how I’m a huge fan of the YMCA?  I’m not so sure they are a fan of me anymore.

Sorry, boys, but I’m going to talk about girl stuff.  Good thing we aren’t face to face or one of us would be embarrassed by the end of this conversation.   

When I was in college, I played on an intramural flag football team.  We called ourselves the ButtCheeks, and as freshman, we whipped the asses of the best team out there, the senior team.  We won the championship. I can’t say I contributed much to the team or learned a lot about football but it was fun and I got the t-shirt so I was thrilled. 

I may not have helped the team out much but what I did do was learn about sports bras and the specific kinds to get.  I’ve talked about this before, but in case you forgot, you should know that I am breastacularly blessed.  I have no rear end, never have; it’s as flat as a pancake despite all of my effort and time on the elliptical machine and doing four million lunges every single Monday.  (Upon reflection, I find it hilarious that I was on a team called the ButtCheeks. Hahahahaha.) But there is no doubt that I am top heavy.  I learned the hard way that not just any bra will work for those of us who are top heavy.  I learned this because right in the middle of a freshman year flag football game, my sports bra snapped clean in two.  I had to run across campus squishing my chest in so that I could get another bra and finish out the game.  Humiliating at best and a lesson learned for future flag football games.   

Clearly that is a lesson I should apply to swim suits as well.  Today I met a friend, Billie, at the YMCA pool.  I have not seen her in a while and despite my trip to the beach and the vats of fake tan (which I can never seem to apply in the correct non-streaky manner) housed in my bathroom cabinets, I’m pasty white. Practically clear.  We grabbed some lunch and headed over to the pool to get some sun and to gossip.  We were settling in and I bent down to put my stuff down when SNAP!  I was at the Y (!), in front of CHILDREN (!), when my top snapped clean in two, the plastic piece holding the back shut literally flying a couple feet away.  Oh God. 

So now I have some things to say.   

You are welcome, teenage boys at the Y.  You are welcome, dirty old men with shorts that are far too short to ever be worn in public.  My apologies to all the mothers who now have to explain to their young children what breasts are.  My apologies to the lifeguards who swallowed whistles and choked.  My apologies also to the little old church ladies who had mini-heart attacks.  And finally, to you women who were there with the perfect round behinds showcased perfectly in your tiny little bikinis which offer no support up top because you don’t need it – BOO-YAH!  To you I make no apologies at all. I hope you all enjoyed the show. 

Smooches,

Jimmie