Yesterday I took the kids to the grocery store to buy some food. Because I’m crazy like that. As we pushed our cart past the customer service desk, a woman reached out and put her hand on my arm. Her eyes were glued to my chest.
(As has been established in previous posts, there is hardly anything hypnotic about my chest. But I WAS wearing my boob-enhancing Fussy shirt.)
“Are you a writer?” she asked.
“Yes, I am,” I answered. For a split second it occurred to me that this would be one of those monumental moments of my life—I’d responded without a second thought, as I should—and I found myself thinking “must tell Karen about this.” Becoming creeps up on all of us, it seems.
It turned out she’s looking for a local writer; she took my card and we chatted a bit and then I went on my way. And because I’m me, I did my food shopping consumed by two thoughts:
1) I could just be some freak wearing a t-shirt (no need to point out that I AM a freak, thanks). This woman was either very brave or a little nuts.
2) Maybe I need to cultivate an entire Fussy-a-Day wardrobe, just to make sure I never miss a gig. You never know who’s gonna want to hire me at my next mammogram.
gosh, I wonder if a fussy shirt would make my boobs look nice. with things like your grocery accostment happening, this might be the right time to invest in one.
Oh, NO, Dutch. While I, too, can attest to the amazing boob-enhancing qualities of the Fussy shirt, I must say that from where I stood at BlogHer, your boobs are lovely. No enhancement could possibly be necessary.
K.
a shirt which enhances one’s boobs AND gets jobs?
I am buying one right now. Heck make that seven.
I like to refer to my Fussy tee as my $20.00 boob job. God bless Mrs. Kennedy.
I’m putting one on right NOW and am going to whore myself on the corner for gigs.
Oooh! I’ve been propositioned in my Fussy shirt, too, but from my husband. Who was talking about another kind of job. Hmm.
You win.
Holy balls…or boobs as the case may be. I need to get me one of these shirts that will make my boobs look big [which I honestly think is virtually impossible] and get me jobs. Thanks for the 411. [That’s me trying to be all hip. My kids jut love that. ;)]
I think Karen needs an “I am an artist” T-shirt!
That is so cool Mir! Congratulations!
Why didn’t you guys tell me about this boob enhancing stuff at BlogHer. Where can I get one of these shirts?
Ok, never mind. The link.. I get it.
My husband really likes my “geez it must have shrunk or maybe it was that 15 pounds I gained this summer” look of my Fussy shirt too.
That moment of illumination when you’ve achieved a life-long goal has got to be incredible. Congratulations, I’m so happy for you.
(I am a long-time appreciator of “the shirt”. Yow)
‘Becoming creeps up on us.’
Yes. YES.
And. I so need a boob-enhancing shirt. Because the puppies have shrunk post-weaning (those BlogHer tits? Those were engorged dogs.) Anyhoo. SHRUNK. Need help.
Do they have the non-boob-enhancing version of that shirt? Because between the Cacique boob-enhancing bras, and a boob-enhancing t-shirt…well, my gals might put people’s eyes out.
Good for you!
And it looks like you’ll need to make a reader’s gallery of boob-enhancity. This comment comes from a man that thinks “writing well” means using spell-check.
You took the kids grocery shopping?!!! You really weren’t kidding about that whole “crazy” thing, were you? ;)
As I learned (after picking up and putting down the Celestine Prophecy 17 times because it just sucked that bad), there are no coincidences. My sources tell me something very good–or at least very bloggable–will come out of the exchange.
I want boobs!
Alas, she is out of those shirts in my size. I think we need to send the power of the Internets upon her servers in demand of more. More! More! More!
Because I want boobs.