Author’s Note: Yes, I absolutely made up an adjective for my title. I found the first portion of this story set in a post that I made a year ago today and was delighted by it all over again. So, today, I decided to write the story that goes with it. And what do you know? I ended up with a story format that I had never planned on or even thought of since I was in grade school. Here you go! Choose you own décolletagic adventure. And there shall surely be more.
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“You ready to do this?”
“You mean, are me and my boobs ready to do this?”
“You know, I had never thought of your décolletage as having an individualism of its own but, in that outfit, I think you just might be battling them for attention.”
Me being five-foot-something and a D-cup, my bust line could indeed be an entity unto itself since I refused to swath myself in turtlenecks year round. And her wit was as dry at the autumn leaves outside.
“Eh, I’m used to playing second fiddle to my breasts; they are the lead singer in this one-woman band.” So was mine.
Just then, the doctor entered the room, a genial smile on her face. “Okay, we are ready for you,” she said to me.
“Really? You’re sure you’re ready? Many a man had those exact last words,” I quipped.
The doctor looked a little surprised but then chuckled and didn’t stop chuckling all the way down to the mammogram room.
“Just…don’t steal the bride’s spotlight,” she reminded me with playfully-narrowed eyes as I settled her veil like gossamer wings down her back.
“Don’t worry. I will hide behind my bouquet,” I assured her, “Or under your train. No one will even notice.”
She laughed outright at that and I felt her butterflies dissipate. Achievement unlocked! Maid of Honor skills for the win!
“If it bothers you, you could always take a header off the stage.”
“I could,” I agreed, “But then you’d have to transport my broken ass back home in a wheelchair through several international airports. Want to do that across a few continents?”
She eyed me for a moment before smirking. “You’ll do great,” she said, “Go get your damn Nobel.”
One thought on “BloPoMo Day 3, Part 2: Décolletagic Tales”
I’d pick ending three! Brains and breast, thank god, are not mutually exclusive!