Blog 132 – 10.6.15

Like most American men I confess I am obsessed with the female breast. Years ago a fellow breast connoisseur shared with me a favorite little chorus of his. I remember the words and the melody:

Brassiere
You hold the things I hold dear.

Like a lot of young boys who came into puberty in the early sixties I spent a lot of time looking through the Sears and Roebuck Catalog. J.C. Penney had a nice one as well. Playboy magazines were not widely available to most young boys but most of our moms had the two catalogs above laying around and they were packed with beautiful women of all shapes and sizes modeling bras and panties. I was fascinated by all the different styles and sizes of bras and all the smiling ladies showing them off.

I have stated previously that my taste for the big endowments that fill a big bra is I am sure a metaphor for a big loving heart. Our hearts are bigger than we realize. We are more than capable of loving everyone and everything in the Universe. Everyone and everything we allow ourself to love makes us ever more aware of how big we truly are. And every time we limit that love we reinforce the lie that we are small minded, small hearted, puny little creatures that exist on a backwater little blue ball for brief time then disappear. Hogwash, we are divine beings of infinite worth and capacity, eternal adventurers in Time and Space by our own choosing to act out every scenario our mind, our heart can imagine.

I share two sweet stories, one about a bra picture and one about a bra poem. The first is about a beautiful preteen girl who came by a picture of a handsome young man several years her senior. She put that picture in her “hope chest” her training bra where she hope one day to have a bigger chest and the love and affection of a handsome young man like the one in the picture she carried in her bra. She got her first wish. Girls be careful what you wish for. Thank goodness she has a strong back. She is a gorgeous well-endowed woman. The young man in the picture never knew she carried his image close to her heart. They most likely will never know each other but this beauty will have her pick of handsome men rest assured of that.

My second story is about a special poem written for a very special lady that was sad her beloved daddy had died when she was a girl and therefore could not walk her down the aisle at her wedding and give her away. She had a loving step-father to do that for her but so wished her first daddy could be there. A poet friend of hers wrote her a poem for her wedding channeling the spirit of her father in which he told her he was always watching and would be at her wedding with bells on. Remember ZuZu in It’s A Wonderful Life, “Teacher says, ‘Every time a bell rings, another angel gets his wings.'” The poet friend could not attend the wedding but the spirit of the dad did and the poem so touched the bride that it had a place of honor in her bra as she walked down the aisle to her new husband.

I hope these two sweet bra stories have touched you heart and tickled the fancy of all you titty lovers out there. I just know I have offended the sensibilities of some of you rule-bound folk. Lighten up life as the Unitarians say is meant to be good and I add “fun.”

Your friend and fellow traveler,
David White