Rapier's Wit

If you've been following this blog since forever ago then you'll know that on a whim I nicknamed my breasts Thelma and Louise. It was a joke during a conversation I had with a guy online back in the late 90s. It started by laughing at the weird things men name their junk. Thelma and Louise seemed far more appropriate than Laverne and Shirley. With that out of the way, please understand that I have never been shy discussing my boobalas. It is like ignoring the 800 pound gorilla in the room.  Usually, the discussion revolves around the impossibility of finding a bra that truly suits me (hence the secondary title of this blog) and the difficulty in wearing pretty much any shirt, sweater, jacket, etc... Today, the Girls need to have a serious talk with all of you. When I was 19 a lump was found in my left breast. Immediately, my gynecologist was notified, he examined me and sent me to a general surgeon the same day. Within a week the lump was subjected to a needle biopsy whic...

If you've been stalk following me for more than a year, then you know I had some issues with my left leg. Wait, did I blog about that horrible experience or did I manage to keep it to myself? I keep very little about my life to myself. What I mean is that I may have only reported the ugliness on Facebook. OK. In March of 2012 a funky bump appeared on my lower left leg. I, being stupid, picked at it. Despite bandaging, treating it with triple antibiotic cream etc... the damned thing would not heal. After 2 months of that nonsense I sought out WebMd. (You thought I was going to say medical treatment, didn't you?) There was a myriad of possibilities and I treated the wound accordingly. From soaking it with apple cider vinegar to coating it with hydrogen peroxide, it only got worse. Surprise! Hey, I wanted a homeopathic remedy. In the long run it was foolish. Don't you dare wag your finger at me. When our vacation to California was quickly approaching, I made haste, fina...

I donated generously.  Now it is your turn, kids.  Don't just go to Boobiethon.com and gawk.  Ante up the dough for the delectable tidbits you gaze upon.  There's a story behind every underwire. October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Every single person has been affected by cancer in some way. According to the American Cancer Society, about 1.3 million women will be diagnosed with breast cancer annually worldwide about 465,000 will die from the disease. . Now, skedaddle and look at the contributions. Please, if you figure out which set of bazongas are mine, don't tell. If you're unsure you can email me at wildhair65@gmail.com and I might give you a clue if you're clueless.

The following is the remaining 2 minutes that wouldn't transfer in spite of how much work I put in to it... sheesh! OK, not that much work for someone who does video editing all the time. For a first timer it was tedious and frustrating. I hope you appreciate it.

This was originally written 2 years ago before this blog was up and running.  I sat at the computer with nothing more than a photo of the costume I wish I could wear on Halloween.  The rest, as they say, is fiction ... or was it? So, I had been perusing Halloween costumes online. They always show these very thin women dressed in the sexy outfits. Some ads will say "Plus Sizes Available." Oh groovy! However, they don't often show what a pleasantly plump, fully bosomed woman looks like in said 'plus size' costume. It's a harsh reality when you take the "bar wench" costume from it's hermetically sealed plastic wrap. You attempt to work out the creases and folds from the acrylic fabric in a steamy shower. You use all the hot water trying to fill the bathroom with enough steam to iron it out. To no avail you're left with, at best, a slightly damp wrinkled garment. While donning your flesh tone 18-hour bra and granny panties, you slip into yo...

" People will be projecting their own issues onto you, today -- so don't listen to those who are pointing out your faults. They're either jealous of you or worried that they themselves are failing. It seems like everyone has issues right now, and their insecurities could start to get on your nerves. Before you lose your temper and tell them off, it's best to go off by yourself and be alone. You can't get caught up in feeding the egos of other people. " This particular horriblescope can apply to nearly any day of my work week. However, I don't believe it is jealousy that triggers behaviors from others that raise my blood pressure. I confidently ascertain that some people are just assholes. And while I spend much of my day placating the childishness of some, I tire of it. My attempts to remain professional are tested. Unleashing the honesty beast gives me satisfaction and stops the whining in its tracks. Mancub hit his freshman year with strong strides, bu...

If you're a long time reader of this blog then you know who Thelma and Louise are -- I'm not speaking about the duo played by Susan Sarandon and Gina Davis. Thelma and Louise are my chest dwelling friends. Like many men nickname their tallywackers, I named my breasts. I know a lot of women who have. Stop giggling! This is a serious matter. Who of you doesn't like to look at bare chests? This isn't limited to men (or women) who like to gaze upon breasts of all shapes and sizes. This includes male chests. Hairy or smooth, well defined or fleshy. There is a site that suits every desire in this realm. I often catch myself admiring a well defined set of shoulders and pectorals. What's most spectacular about this site is that it's for a noble cause: Raising money for breast cancer research!! Yes, in celebration of National Breast Cancer Awareness Month , the website Boobie-thon is doing such a thing. Real people anonymously exposing their pecs and funbags. A...

When a blog's subtitle is about bras, it would be remiss to not discuss the importance of taking care of the matter that takes up space in said over the shoulder boulder holder. Breasts make up a large portion of my proportions, but size doesn't matter to cancer. It doesn't care if you're rich or poor; enhanced or natural; a mouthful or a handful. October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month . It's not the only time of the year a woman (and men) should be checking their breasts for malformations and lumps. Nor is it the only time we gals should be getting mammograms. I'm not a health care professional, but I do tote around some of the biggest, natural boobs of anyone I know. So, I feel completely at ease and within my right to speak out on behalf of breasts everywhere. Help raise awareness for research to find a cure and also make it possible for ALL women to receive free mammograms. Young women need to learn how to properly perform self breast exams. ...

I've not given much attention to the subtitle of my blog. Well, I have discussed my life and love-ish stuff, but what's been tossed to the side like a raggedy pair of undies is my ongoing quest for the perfect bra. There is a plethora of styles, colors and sizes available. The issue, as you all know, is perfect fit. I've made costly purchases only to be disappointed by the internal armor nearly impaling me when I make a sudden move. Or, regardless of measurements taken prior to ordering (I haven't found a store that carries ample cup size for Thelma and Louise), the cups sag and the band squeezes my rib cage. I blame being cranky on ill fitting brassieres. Or the band rides up, the straps leave indentations and my cups runneth over. Uni-boobs and quadra-boobs do not look appealing! The last time I sought out advice regarding my hefty issue, I was directed to various websites. I received an email from one of the shop owners who had been featured in the Washington ...

...are the eyes of a sword wielding, bodacious heroine!! Be wary if you're a heartbreaking baffoon! Look over your shoulder, asshats! The Rapier is ready to slice and dice you down to size. I received this as a birthday gift. It's absolutely kick-ass, don't you think? Gifts have been given to me in the past that were touching, thoughtful, pricey, etc... This artistic rendering of my alter ego instantly made me weep. With the exception of presents Mancub has made, I can't recall a time when someone put such a personal touch on a gift. For me. Exclusively. Not another one of its kind. It's all me; just for me. Me me memememememeeeeeeeeeeee! It's uncanny how spot on the body is in this drawing. Amazing! Yeah, my ass is so firm you could bounce Buicks off my butt. Mmmhmm. And that tiny waist. Yup. Me to a 't'. It's so close to the real thing that one might swear I posed for it. **giggle-snort** What has me even more thrilled is that I now have a...

Facebook is a time suck There! I said it! I admit it. But it keeps me off the stripper pole. About 8 months ago someone sent me an invite to do a 10 second interview. I figured I had that much time to spare, right? How many questions could there be? Hundreds! Unless you're John Moschitta, it's unlikely you can answer numerous questions in under 10 seconds ... with exception to that rapid fire questioning in Uncle Buck . Wait ... that clip is 25 seconds long, but isn't it precious? So, for my own amusement (and maybe your's) I have extracted 20 gems from Q & A with Miss Riss -- 1. What's the sexiest thing the opposite sex can wear ? Me 2. Nothing beats ... ? A new pair of underpants 3. In 20 years I will be .. .? Still answering these stupid assed questions 4. I don't get mad, I get . ..? Psycho 5. When they write my obituary, I hope they mention ... ? I don't care. I'll be dead 6. What flavor are you glad they didn't include in Bertie...

Basically I am lacking in creativity. I'm also acutely aware that many of my readers (OK, the 5 of you that regularly visit) might have missed out on some of my proudest posts. I apologize to those of you who've read these previously. Who knows, maybe my shared thoughts about breasts and shopping for over the shoulder boulder holders have been painfully pushed to the deepest recesses of your minds. And now I am forcing you to have instant recall! (and recoil.) One of the reasons the subtitle to this blog involves "pursuit of the perfect bra" is due to my inability to find an ideal fit for my basooms. It's not rocket science, or is it? I don't think it's my fault that I am not able to find a brassier that fits comfortably and properly. Manufacturers are sadistic bastards. That's what! What made me think of these revealing tales was a test that I took on Facebook. Yes, those are not only major time sucks but they are completely and utterly (udder...