HIPPO BRIGADE

I Bought Something Yesterday.

September 3, 2009

I was at Target and I bought…

fake boobs.

I didn’t know Target sold fake boobs, but there they were right next to the cotton briefs and tube socks. And somehow they ended up in my cart, right next to the bottle of Kaboom! and Oreos.

Fake boobs.

In my cart.

I was thrilled. I couldn’t wait to get home and stick them on. I mean, hello? who couldn’t use a pair of fake boobs. Even thought I am well endowed thanks to pregnancy, I could always use a bit of umph, I mean, I’m not stupid, and I’d never turn down a bit of umph. Nope. Never.

They look like boneless, skinless chicken breasts, which is probably why the peoples call them ‘cutlets’. And they stick. Like a big fake boobie sticker.

And I stuck those boneless, skinless bad boys to my chest, and then proceeded to squeeze them, because, COME ON!

Berlyn was intrigued.

My husband was confused.

And I kept dancing around the house squeezing my fake boobies. And you’re welcome for the mental image.

Here’s the drawback:

After an entire day of wearing my cutlets, immature boob fondling on my behalf, and flashing my friend Jenielle, whom I’m positive was appreciative, I finally peeled off my fake Target boobies, and then was bowled over with the smell. Like OMG I smell like a tree-living hippie who swears off deodorant or showering because it would interfere with their natural odor. Side note: natural odor, my friends? Smells. Bad. Even on me, a tiny, adorable non-sweaty girly girl.

I was stinky.

So word to the wise, if you’re going to buy fake boobies at Target make sure you’re not going to have the sexy-time right after you peel those stinkers off. Dip your boobies in a basin of soapy water and then proceed. Please.

Your man will thank me.