Turn On Your Heartlight

If you read my blog, you already know that I am (for lack of a better “PG rated” word) “chestically challenged”.

When I was younger, it used to thrill me when teachers wrote AAAAAA on my papers. In school, on the grading curve, that means you are tops.

What they neglect to teach you in school is that in the real world and in bra stores, AAAAAA means your top is not very curvy. No amount of studying is going to change that. It's a total bust.

I know, I know, I could cheat and buy them, but I don’t have $8,000 to spend on boobs when I have one kid two years away from college. Even if I could afford it, my aversion to masked medical professionals and the fact that my friends laughed at me when I put the idea out there once would keep me from doing it.

I brought a bunch of glow sticks to the Bon Jovi concert the other night. I enjoy a good glow stick as much as anybody and I thought we could share some and make new friends at the concert with them, too! I'm very nice that way.

So there I was, sweet, little, non-hoochie me, busily assembling adorable glowing necklaces and bracelets, while the glow sticks that my friend is passing out to the others in the crowd are ending up stuck in the cleavage of the much more naughty and chestically endowed...highlighting all kinds of things.

Hmmmmm....I thought. Why didn’t I think of that? I blamed it on my surgical menopause. That hormone replacement pill they give you just does not work at all like the real stuff.

I knew that I certainly wasn’t going to sweep Bon Jovi off his feet with some neon earrings when the other girls had beaming boobies and real hormones, so I decided that I had to twinkle myself up a little bit, too.

I am not even remotely what anyone would consider wild. But, I decided to let loose for once and I, too, stuck a glow stick in my cleavage! Woo Hoo! I had a few beers and I was rock chicking at a Bon Jovi concert with a glow stick in my bra and you’re all probably thinking I was totally hot, right? Maybe even smokin'! I'm over here, Bon Jovi!! Look at me!!!!

Yeah, not so much.

When you don’t really have any cleavage, it’s hard to hold a glow stick “there”. While I danced, it had worked it’s way down inside my shirt to my bellybutton, prompting one of my dearest friends to tell me that I had “kind of an E.T. thing” happening. Completely true and very funny, but definitely not the look I was aiming for.

Don’t get me wrong. I happen to like E.T. He’s very cute, but not really in what I would call a “run away with me, Bon Jovi!” sexpot temptress kind of way, you know?

It was a sign. E.T. has it right when he said “Be Good!” This Rock Chick just doesn’t have it in her to be a bad girl, anyway. Darn respectable upbringing!

I’ll just have to be content with my God given Reese’s Pieces and, at bellybutton level or not, hope that people can see my real heartlight shine wherever I go.