Slutty Goddess and the Plungerheads: Meet my BFF and her Bodacious Boobs!

Miss Mona:  Well, I always just thought if you see somebody without a smile, give 'em yours!

- from The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas

“Try to avoid getting involved with somebody who's gonna need killing before it's over. It may seem to you that that narrows the field somewhat, but be diligent.”

― Jill Conner Browne, The Sweet Potato Queens' Book of Love

I've been chewing on this story for quite some time.  Mainly how to tell the truth without divulging identity.  You see, my BFF is a mother, an artist and every manner of normal you can think of.  She's into arts and crafts, sews, bakes crazy good cookies and is a budding entrepeneur.  She's also a born again slut! 

Why not?  After more than two decades of being married to the same man, she suddenly found herself single.  Seriously.  Just like that.  One day everything is fine (or so she thought) and the next he tells her it's not...as in, oh by the way, I'm in love with someone else and I'm leaving. 

After many porch chats, lots of wine (Arbor Mist, bless her heart, which is like juice boxes for adults) and tears, she finally realized what I told her from day one.  He did her a favor. 

Not to undermine the whole damned marriage.  They brought two awesome children into this world, made lots of friends together and currently maintain a semi-decent friendship.  My BFF is a very good example of grace, let me tell you.  I should probably pay more attention to how she handles herself because my fiery nature doesn't always know when to keep its mouth shut. (I'll blame it on my moon in Aries!)

Anyway, life goes on.  And the life of my BFF, whom I jokingly refer to as the Slutty Goddess, certainly has gone on...and on...and on...and on!  I have truly been amazed at just how far she's come, how much she's grown and how fucking awesome she is.  It wasn't as obvious when she was busy raising her kids and fulfilling her role as supporting wife.  Hell, she was too damned busy.

It's obvious now.  And I can't tell you her name, she'll hurt me.  But I can share a photo of her bodacious boobs!  (I did start this blog on the subject of boobs, so it's appropriate.)  Here they are:



Yep, the Slutty Goddess has discovered the joys of being a sexy, independent woman.  And since some things will never change, with a rack like that...she has choices!  Of course, the realization has been a process.  Which is not uncommon.  We all have to kiss a few toads along the way, right? 

Speaking of toads, she sent me a text message one day stating that she'd just had the worst date of her life.  Worst as in weird.  During lunch, no less.  She was so nonplussed, I did what any BFF would do.  On the way home, I stopped by the package store to find just the right bottle of wine for dinner...to celebrate the worst date ever.  When I saw this bottle, I laughed out loud.  How perfect:



Source

The next time you have endured the worst/weirdest date ever, I highly recommend this wine.  As a matter of fact, it has become the official KSRL and Slutty Goddess men are stupid wine.  After a few glasses, a light salad and lots of chocolate...who gives a shit?

Of course, we don't think men are stupid all the time.  We think men are cute, and cuddly, and we like the way they smell (most of them). They can also lift heavy objects, open doors and kill spiders. You know, useful.  But when they are stupid, we reserve the right to celebrate in style. 

The two of us have toasted many chapters in her dating career.  I have them all labeled for her in case she ever decides to let me write the book.  Seriously, her shenanigans would be a best seller for every single woman starting over in her 50's.  You see, my BFF personifies the ability to get up after the rug's been yanked out from under you, dust yourself off and get busy!  All you need is a bustier, an open mind and a sense of humor. 

For instance, Salsa Boy.  Yeah, you heard me.  Salsa Boy.  This would be the chapter dedicated to a fit and fine Salsa dancer with a penchant for big momma porn and the audacity to greet my BFF at his door butt...ass...naked...and sporting a very large woody.  So, while the experience left her feeling less than cherished, and later in tears, it wasn't a total loss.  There's more to it than porn and the surprise greeting, of course.  As a matter of fact, that's not the bad part. 

My personal favorite is Button Boy. Do I need to explain that one?  In this chapter, the Slutty Goddess exercises her natural ability to make do (all moms know how to do this) and find pleasure in life's little things.  She was tempted to go back to Salsa Boy, but he made her cry.  Sigh.  Now what?

How about Fantasy Boy?  To her credit, SG (getting tired of spelling it out) really cared about this one and she was willing to fulfill his fantasy.  Without going into great detail, there was dancing, a bubble bath and breakfast the next morning. There's more, but she made me take it out.  Pooh!  Good stuff too...except, he wasn't so happy about it after. Men don't like competition you know.  Never mind the fact it was his idea.  However, SG rose to the occasion in the manner of a true Goddess.  She enjoyed it!

Hell, I might as well mention Big Blues Man.  He made her laugh.  A lot.  And he had a really big...guitar.  So, he got double points.  I so want to hint at what went on in the Green Room at Blind Willie's.  Sigh.  I wish my mouth was that big and my knees that strong. 

We're not going to talk about Two Second Man.  Bless his heart.

There are more stories, and all involve a very good woman with a big heart, big boobs and the guts to keep trying.  Over time, she has learned to be the kind, nurturing woman that she is while at the same time saying no to things that do not serve the Goddess well. 

And she is a Goddess dammit!  She deserves whatever she wants.  Near as I can tell, she finally agrees.

I sure hope so, because she has survived seven years on the post-divorce path of blues and beyond.  And while she's gotten really good at the dating thing, I sense that she's ready to share the new and improved woman that she has become with just one. 

Damn, I sure will miss her stories.  However, some lucky man will reap a mountain of rewards when he chooses SG.  And boys, that's how it's supposed to go.  You make a woman feel chosen.  After all, the only way a man gets to be King is by treating his woman like a Queen.  SG and I are amazed at how many men out there just don't get that.

I have to conclude with a song that makes me think of her every time I hear it. Consider it the Slutty Goddess theme song! 





Fakin' It

I’ve lost weight before, but this time I’ve lost my boobs. I’m not sure where they went, but I’ve come to the realization that wherever they are they’re hanging out with belly rolls and a double chin that I no longer want. How dare they steal my girls!

This is so not fair. I’m not sure why. Maybe this is how men feel when their dicks no longer work.

The only thing I am sure of is that I’ve seriously considered a boob job. Seriously. I stopped coloring my hair to let my natural salt and pepper reign supreme (and I will never go back) but dammit, I want my boobs back. And if they insist on leaving me, permission not granted, then I have a right to do something about it…don’t I?

Apparently not. Another thing I am sure of is that my husband doesn’t like the idea at all. This seems rather inconsistent given the viewing pleasures of your average male. I just don’t get it.

I’m not treading unknown waters here. There’s a familiar line drawn between wife and slut. The moment you say I do, you can’t. Certainly, I understand the “wife in the kitchen, whore in the bedroom” mentality. That’s as it should be. No one wants to see their spouse acting all pornographic in public. Well maybe some do, but I’m talking about your average couple.

Having said all that, don’t let me fool you. I am 99.9% certain that I will never get a boob job. But that fraction of a percent of me that isn’t sure is very intrigued with the reasons why I might.

We all fake something. Why not boobs? Seriously. What’s the difference between pretending you like someone that you don’t, or pretending that you’re doing your job…and walking around with fake boobs? Other than the monetary expense, nothing.

Maybe what I’d really like to do is spend one day with double D water balloons just to see what I could get away with. Like a social experiment. I think it would be fun and funny. Boobs do have a way of bringing out the stupid in men.

Lame? Yes. Funny? Definitely. Come to think of it, those of us with boobs would have a lot less to laugh about if it weren’t for men. But they’re so cute!

Here’s what isn’t cute. Hypocrisy. Yes, if you’re reading this between the lines then you will notice some righteous feminine anger trying to evolve here.

Again, I’m not treading unknown waters. On the way to work this morning a local radio show presented this situation: A guy meets a girl at work and he is attracted to her because of the way she dresses, but once he hooks up with her he asks her to tone it down. Your thoughts?

I didn’t have time to respond or listen. Darn.

I have plenty to say about that. Mainly, it pisses me off. It’s not like men will ever stop lusting after the “slut.” But why do they not want their wives, girlfriends, significant others to be slutty?

Whether or not my boobs are real or fake is irrelevant.

Who’s faking here?  That is the question.

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