Tag Archives: personal

Milk Bags, Hostage Negotiators, and Hands: The Untold Story of The Breast – A VH1 Behind the Music Exclusive*

Over the years I’ve started to see a trend, one that doesn’t really get talked about. Utilitarian Breasts. Yes that’s right the bra is now a Batbelt, and breasts are the tools within. “What are you talking about?” is probably the question on everyone’s mind. I’m referring to the practice of using breasts as a storage device, or in any other user created, situation specific useful capacity.

Several years ago Master MonkeyT0es and I had a roommate that would keep beer bottles between her breasts in order to have two free hands to do other things (primarily to chase and coddle three large dogs). Over the years I have seen Master MonkeyT0es use their breasts to hold IDs, credit cards, and money in place of carrying a wallet, clutch, or purse. A few months back I saw a video of what I believe to be the Brazilian version of America’s Got Talent where a woman with HUGE breasts used them to smash watermelons, OWWW. Today at the mall I saw a teenage girl with her Crackberry in her chest so she could have two free hands to skillfully scavenge the back-to-school racks at Aero.

Breasts have often been used in society to demean people of all different identities in one way or another. If you have breasts your abilities to navigate a map or do math are somehow automatically compromised. You’re automatically seen as over emotional or irrational. You may be male identified and have to bind them painfully tight so that no one can discover your “secret” and exercise their ignorance and bigotry upon you. You may be male identified and dealing with a physiological condition that society has made you ashamed of. Your physical body is automatically assigned as weak. Your character lesser than. Your breasts are only for nursing purposes, but not in public because it’s “shameful” and “they” reserve the right to kick you out of public spaces for doing so. Heaven forbid you have them and feel comfortable enough to flaunt them and possibly even use them to support you or your family. The Tetanus infested other side of that blade drives into you with the ideologies that you are only valuable if you have large breasts. That they are to be ogled, groped, and exploited.

So where’s the upside for those that have breasts? I think it partly lies in being open to discuss their utilitarian factor. I have found through simply witnessing these novel uses of breasts I have personally become much more comfortable with other people’s breasts, and not in the #tweetcreeper kind of way. Seeing these magical phenomenas makes them simply seem…well…natural.

Another interesting thing that someone (most likely Master MonkeyT0es) exposed me to a few years ago, was a website where someone decorates bras and turns them into purses, or bra bags and sells them. The visibility of bras as just another accessory, with a fun utilitarian approach, also helps with the idea that breasts aren’t shameful, despite the fact that for many bra shopping is made to be a HUGE pain in the ass, and bras are often extremely uncomfortable, especially when the underwire stabs you in the ribs or side boob, or all together snaps.

Breasts don’t fit into the shameful taboo category for me anymore when it becomes painfully obvious that they are like another set of hands. And more importantly, a part of a PERSON. A person with feelings, wants, needs, and desires. A person that deserves respect until proven otherwise, and that factor will have nothing to do with their breasts. A person to be valued and appreciated for their experiences.

So that’s it, I just wanted to state that breasts are cool. Breasts are useful little arms, hands, pillows and situation specific negotiators. Where’s the shame in that? I’ll tell you, THERE ISN’T ANY.

So I want hear about all the wondrous ways your breasts have been your Hero. If you don’t have breasts but would like to share a way in which someone else’s breasts have been a Hero for you, please do.

***********************SO I DON’T GET SUED**********************

*VH1 has NOT consented to or is in anyway (that I am aware of) affiliated with this blog post.
*No one was actually harmed in the wake of Brazilla.



I’m tired. Very tired. The list of things to be tired about? Where to begin?

  • I was laid off two weeks ago. I’m tired of sitting around waiting to see if someone thinks a piece of paper can somehow accurately reflect my work ethic and experience.
  • I’m tired of the hurry up and wait.
  • Tired of lies, liars, and lying and being lied to.
  • Tired of being let down.
  • Tired of always being wrong.
  • Tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop.
  • Tired of being tired, as redundant as that sounds.

This isn’t a complete list, simply a generic recap. A vague set of ideas to an even more vague series of events. That’s me. Tired and obfuscating. Tired of obfuscating.

I’ve been attempting the job interview thing. As much of that process that I can actually control. During the last interview I was asked a series of odd questions. The kind designed to see how you would react to such a question. Not the kind used to see your past reactions to a situation to measure and determine your likelihood to respond the same way in future situations, as Behavioral Interviewing typically goes. Questions from the usual “tell me a about your work history,” and “so on your resume you mentioned this, can you go into a little more detail on that?” to “if you could have any super power what would it be?” and the kicker… “Tell me something about yourself that you wouldn’t want me to know.”

Ah, the sixty-four million dollar, Russian Roulette semi loaded revolver question.

I set my Diet Mountain Dew to the side and replied “that’s a loaded question if I have ever heard of one. That’s the kind of question that screens out candidates immediately.” Then I laughed and said, “I am transgendered. My legal name change is about a month away, and hopefully so is the hormone therapy. I don’t go by Ann, my name is Lucian. Lucian Dorian Grey. I’m sure that will bar me from employment.”

They were stunned.

After they picked up their pens and jaws, the questions came. I answered them all. I have nothing to hide. As I explained to them if they hired me they would find out soon enough, and if I didn’t tell them they would wonder what else I might be hiding.

I suppose the interview went well. I’ve been in worse. I haven’t had to interview for too many jobs, moving from one city or state to another is really the only reason I change jobs.

As soon as that question came out I had a choice to make. I could have answered with anything, but chose the truth. Simply because I’m tired. I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a situation that has exhausted all of your faculties. One that makes you question what type of person you are and what type of moral fiber you possess, if any. Everyday I have a responsibility to myself and those around me to be the person that I wish all would be. A person that can look you in the eye and give you the truth no matter how much it hurts. A person that will always do what they say they are going to do. A person that you never have to question what their motives are. A person whom you would literally put your life in their hands without a shred of doubt.

Those are Godzilla sized shoes to fill, and I know it. That doesn’t stop me from trying. Maybe that’s why I’m so tired. I look around and find more and more that those goals, and character traits are all but extinct. Truth be told, that realization is the most tiring part. Not the trying, but being one of the few that cares enough to try, regardless of whether or not there is something to gain.

I find the truth simply stunning. That is, in all reality I have done this to myself. I’ve set these standards. I’ve chosen to live by them. Therefore my disappointment is of my own doing. Yet I keep going back for more. They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I suppose this makes me insane. A masochist at the very least.

“Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”

-Friedrich Nietzsche — Beyond Good and Evil

So here I am. Tired. Tired of being tired. And confused. Even though I’ve made these choices is it unfair of me to expect the same thing from others? Or is that me being a hypocrite? Does expecting that people would put others before themselves, and that they would take care to ensure that their words and actions would never be questioned seem unrealistic? I can’t imagine that it is. Nor has anyone been able to make a strong enough argument to me that I am being unrealistic and unfair, and believe me, many have tried. I can’t truly bring myself to believe that in this world of gazing into the abyss, that there is room to make excuses for ourselves and why we didn’t try everything we could to prevent to abyss from gazing back into us. So until I am convinced otherwise, I shall remain tired.

So that’s what this is. My plea to you to convince me that I am or am not crazy. That I am or am not a zealot in my quest for what I see as fair and right, that the abyss and it’s monsters have no place in me. Perhaps you will share your quest and we can find a middle ground. Perhaps our quests are not that unalike in nature, perhaps they are and you can explain why that works. Either way, feel free to let me know.

******UPDATE AS OF 05.06.11******

I was called in to meet with their HR Director this morning. He had additional questions about my trans status and how to proceed because I GOT THE JOB with full benefits and 2 weeks paid vacation starting day one.

He agreed starting me on day one as Lucian Grey would be easier and that I should feel free to use the men’s bathroom.

I’m still waiting to wake up and find out this is all a very elaborate dream.