Welcome Back Boobies!
Every winter, I reach a breaking point. I don't think I suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder ("SAD," which is really a clever ruse by a pharmaceutical company to create a need and peddle drugs), but there comes a time every year, just before the days start getting longer, where I finally become completely fed up with winter.
The dead trees. The dead grass. The dead sky. The time comes where no amount of bundling up can warm the constant chill that has finally seeped into my bones and chilled my soul. Last week I woke up, opened the blinds in my apartment to another cold, grey sky and screamed, "I'm sick of this!" Then I showered, got dressed, bundled up and went dutifully to work, as a chicken-shit iconoclast is wont to do. But then--thank all the gods and everything good--the weather finally began to warm up. And then, crossing a distinct barrier, I finally woke up to a day like today: The first truly beautiful, sunny and warm day of the year. Today is the first Spring day that actually feels like Spring.
Just when I truly began to forget how warmth and sunshine feel, like a person who forgets the face of a parent who dies in his childhood, it finally gets warmer. My emotional decline is halted. Then it begins to reverse. Today I can feel the heat rise both in my heart and bones. It's warm, and the long winter disease begins to go into a slow remission.
Yes, the trees are still bare, no flowers line the city streets, but today I am blissfully reminded that the world is not dead after all; it was only hibernating. The trees haven't sprouted leaves, but today the boobies have bloomed.
For months the women in this city have covered their beautiful orbs under layers and layers of protection. Today, hallelujah, the layers are coming off, and the boobies are starting to peek out from their winter hiding places. More than birds singing or the smell of roses in the air, when the boobie parade finally begins marching down the city sidewalks, then I finally know that spring has arrived.
This is only the first crop of boobies of the year, the early bloomers. But I know that by mid-July conditions will be ripe for even the most nocturnal and shy pairs to succumb to the heat and expose themselves in a variety of ways. Today I've already seen an assortment of tank tops, halter tops and low cut (and blissfully tight) v-neck t-shirts. Sigh.
These are the first seedlings, poking up like wildflowers in a vast country landscape. Life begets life, however, and the barren landscape will bloom anew with the trees and flowers. Birds will be singing again, and as god as my witness I will soon get eye strain from trying to take in every beautiful example of exposed femininity.
Welcome back boobies. Happy spring.
POSTSCRIPT: I would also like to say "welcome back" to the gorgeous female asses as well. To the lady I saw today wearing the thin, white, diaphanous and cheek-hugging pants clearly showing she prefers wearing g-strings: Thank you.
The dead trees. The dead grass. The dead sky. The time comes where no amount of bundling up can warm the constant chill that has finally seeped into my bones and chilled my soul. Last week I woke up, opened the blinds in my apartment to another cold, grey sky and screamed, "I'm sick of this!" Then I showered, got dressed, bundled up and went dutifully to work, as a chicken-shit iconoclast is wont to do. But then--thank all the gods and everything good--the weather finally began to warm up. And then, crossing a distinct barrier, I finally woke up to a day like today: The first truly beautiful, sunny and warm day of the year. Today is the first Spring day that actually feels like Spring.
Just when I truly began to forget how warmth and sunshine feel, like a person who forgets the face of a parent who dies in his childhood, it finally gets warmer. My emotional decline is halted. Then it begins to reverse. Today I can feel the heat rise both in my heart and bones. It's warm, and the long winter disease begins to go into a slow remission.
Yes, the trees are still bare, no flowers line the city streets, but today I am blissfully reminded that the world is not dead after all; it was only hibernating. The trees haven't sprouted leaves, but today the boobies have bloomed.
For months the women in this city have covered their beautiful orbs under layers and layers of protection. Today, hallelujah, the layers are coming off, and the boobies are starting to peek out from their winter hiding places. More than birds singing or the smell of roses in the air, when the boobie parade finally begins marching down the city sidewalks, then I finally know that spring has arrived.
This is only the first crop of boobies of the year, the early bloomers. But I know that by mid-July conditions will be ripe for even the most nocturnal and shy pairs to succumb to the heat and expose themselves in a variety of ways. Today I've already seen an assortment of tank tops, halter tops and low cut (and blissfully tight) v-neck t-shirts. Sigh.
These are the first seedlings, poking up like wildflowers in a vast country landscape. Life begets life, however, and the barren landscape will bloom anew with the trees and flowers. Birds will be singing again, and as god as my witness I will soon get eye strain from trying to take in every beautiful example of exposed femininity.
Welcome back boobies. Happy spring.
POSTSCRIPT: I would also like to say "welcome back" to the gorgeous female asses as well. To the lady I saw today wearing the thin, white, diaphanous and cheek-hugging pants clearly showing she prefers wearing g-strings: Thank you.
posted by Rant-N-Roll at 2:41 PM
3 Comments:
You are a sick and hopeful romantic, aren't you?
Awesome post. Truly an admirer of the female body.
Mona...are you JOKING????
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