Wednesday, January 2, 2008

From the Archives: My Day Spent Undercover as a Big-Breasted Vixen


(This was originally posted in the Cubicle 3-10 CEO Newsletter, now defunct. Enjoy! In the meantime, I'm working on some fabulous new things in Bethville...stay tuned.)

I have recently taken it upon myself to seek out prejudices in our society and expose them for what they are. Television host and supermodel Tyra Banks inspired me recently with her day spent wearing a fat suit, fighting prejudice against the obese in Los Angeles. I, however, will venture forth onto the streets of Astoria, New York, as a large-breasted vixen and experience the prejudice that faces women with large breasts and long legs.

Those who know me personally are aware that my legs are rather short and plumpish and my breasts are medium to sizeable, depending on the day. And since implants and some rather shapely stilts are out of the question, I must rely on a change of wardrobe to provide the illusion of larger breasts and longer legs.

According to Glamour magazine, knee-high heeled boots and an A-line skirt give the illusion of elongated calves. I donned these and a heavily padded push-up bra. I then put on my slinkiest lace tank top, smeared my lips with Hellcat Red lip gloss, grabbed my purse, and took to the streets.

I returned within two minutes, remembering that it was below freezing and a bit snowy. I put on my mittens and a scarf and went back outside. Still a bit cold, I returned again and traded my knee-high heeled boots for more slip resistant and insulated winter boots. Again, I headed outdoors. I returned one last time for my coat and walked downstairs and across the street to the closest bar. Finding it closed, as it was only around 9 AM (I’m a morning person), I slinked to the closest Starbucks.

Starbucks was full of morning coffee drinkers. I ordered what I thought a busty vixen might; a skim cinnamon latte with two shots of espresso. Sipping it ever so sexily, I noticed a particularly good looking man staring at me.

“Do you have the time?” he asked, casually.

“Why, yes,” I said lustily. “It’s spank me o’clock.”

“Mind if I sit?”

“Not at all, cowboy.”

We exchanged very lusty stares for the next ten minutes.

“What do you do?” he asked me.

I licked my lips. “I work in children’s publishing.”

His face fell. “Oh,” he said, “I was hoping you did something a little more vixen-like. Like investment banking.” He looked hastily at his watch. “I’m sorry, I have to leave. I think I may have contracted a food borne illness from my scone.” He dry heaved rather unconvincingly and left. I shook my head at the blatant prejudice I had just witnessed and went to the bathroom to touch up my makeup. There, I faced my first real challenge.

Upon applying another coat of Fabulash, I poked myself in the eye with the mascara wand and was forced to remove my right contact lens. With my right eye bloodshot and flowing with tears and my left eye a little squinty, I considered my options. After a moment, I found a simple solution to my problem: Sexy librarian. I donned my glasses, poufed my tresses, and continued to the next phase of my investigation.

To Be Continued...

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