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Sunday, Sept. 23, 2001 - 6:18 P.M.
Frenching
I was watching The Vicar Of Dibly last night on BBC America. I love that station, I love British television, particularly British sit-coms. It began the way it does for most Americans, with Monty Python's Flying Circus, But eventually I experimented with The Young Ones and The Comic Strip. That was when I discovered Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders. They went on to create shows like French and Saunders and Absolutely Fabulous. Before long, I became addicted to the harder stuff like Black Adder, Father Ted, Keeping Up Appearances, and People Like Us. I knew my BBC habit overtook me when I had to have my daily doses of EastEnders, Ground Force, and Changing Rooms.
I digress.
Back to the Vicar. Actually, back to Dawn French. I want to be this woman. I love this woman. I want to be her friend, more importantly, I want her to want to be MY friend. This is a beautiful, talented, witty, woman who just happens to be large. She manages it much better than I. I think the key reason is that she truly is large, and I am not. See what I mean?
I think the key to whether a person is TRULY large is by her "bosoms," as Dawn refers to them.. She has massive melons and they balance her size out. I, on the other hand, have none. Nada. I have lost 16 pounds, all them in my chest. I have windsocks hanging from my sternum. I don't really need a bra so much for support, but for comfort. It's really irritating when you get your nipples caught in your jean's zipper. Or when they are tucked into your waistband, they chafe after a while. So, I just take them and roll them up neatly like a doobie and tuck them neatly into their little tiny A-cups.
If I had big bosoms, I would be ok with me. But I don't. And I'm not.
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