Bosoms

Boobs. Boobies.Bosoms. Breasts. TaTa’s: They are the stuff life is made of. Literally and figuratively. Without em’ us humans would have died. They are practical and sensual and sexual and maternal and sexy and gross and mostly, just awesome. Awesome because of the aforementioned reasons, of course. And, because they are comforting in the midst of being so, well, versatile. (which brings us full circle to them being awesome). Who doesn’t feel comfort when lying on the breast of a woman? Babies do. People of all ages do. Ever met a man who didn’t find comfort in a breast? Women do too. I still rest my head on my Mom’s chest when I feel sad. You? If not, I bet you wish you could or wanted to. As for my own, their most sacred and enjoyable use has been nursing my daughters and giving them a human pillow for rocking and sleeping. Although my husband may argue otherwise. (wink, wink).

My friends from all stages of life would vouch that I am grannyish in my ways. My college roomates were so certain about this fact that they referred to me exclusively as Granny. I fall asleep early (and in mid sentence), I walk around the house wrapped in a blanket; even when its 90 degrees out, I worry about children and safety, I like to sip coffee and talk about life (preferably in a rocking chair on my porch), I never run out of words. I like to give unsolicited advice,and unfiltered commentaries on whatever or whomever I have an opinion, I am a terrible driver, I forget important facts and lose important things, I nap regularly and wake to the sound of a crowing chicken on a daily basis.

Granny, though, wasn’t my only name during college. In fact, I had a double name: Granny Bos. As in ,Granny Bosom Buddy. We, my friends, were bosom buddies. Still are. They know me well. They seem to think that I have a good bit in common with most people and should therefore write with and to and for the bosoms out there. So I am.

Best,

Granny

Email Me: grannysbosom@gmail.com