Tag Archives: prude

Cleavage

Cleavage: (n) the hollow between a woman’s breasts

Jimmy was my friend. This was back in the day when the name “Jimmy” did not elicit laughter.

He was one year older than me. I was eleven. (You can do the math.)

Jimmy had a mom. I had a mom, too, but she was a mother. Jimmy’s mom was young and had the largest breasts I had ever seen. I was only
 eleven, so I hadn’t thought that much about breasts. Most of the ones I had spied belonged to my aging relatives, and they were similar to the appearance and texture of an avocado.

Not Jimmy’s mom.

Even though we lived in a time when the “prude laws of behavior” were held supreme, Jimmy’s mom walked around the yard in a bikini, watering the plants. There was a tree not more than twenty paces from where she did her work, and I situated myself so I could stare at her as she gracefully bent over with her hose.

The bikini was so small that I could almost see all the way down to her nipples. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever beheld (and I had a Viewmaster with pictures of the Grand Canyon).

She was so …

I don’t know. I guess the word is “sexy,” even though I didn’t know there was such a thing as sex.

All I knew was that every time I stared at her ample cleavage, I got warm, I tingled and the lower parts of my body ached. It was like there was something they thought they should be doing, and they were being deprived of it, but since I was so ignorant, all I could do was quietly writhe between pain and pleasure.

One day I thought she saw me, so in the most clumsy way possible I ran across the street, back into my garage, finding it difficult to do so because, for some reason, my pee-pee hole had grown, making it cumbersome to speed away.

I’ve never shared this before and perhaps will never share it again.

But it was definitely my sexual awakening–and even though I did not know what the hell was going on, I was very grateful to Jimmy’s mom for owning a bikini and being brave enough to wear it.

Cleavage is a reminder to men that women are the only humans on Earth that are truly beautiful when unclothed.

 

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Buxom

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Buxom: (adj) a woman with large breasts.

Prude or rude?

These appear to be the two choices offered to me every day.

I can take a path of believing that anything that sounds sexual or stimulates my temptations should be ignored or relegated to a private corner.

Or I can just pop off and use all the vernacular of present day society, acting like the free spirit, uninhibited to speak my mind.

We just don’t seem to have the ability to find better ways to share our thoughts.

So we end up looking on buxom women as if they are motherly, or else we proclaim them to have “big tits.”

Somewhere along the line we have completely lost the evolutionary meaning of women’s breasts. So some folks refuse to talk about them and other people giggle and ogle them.

What is the correct procedure?

It’s simple: it’s up to the person who has them.

If a woman is proud of her breasts, wants to talk about them and feels uplifted, so to speak, by others appreciating them, I think that’s just jim dandy.

If she’s embarrassed, tentative and uncertain about her bosom, I have absolutely no problem remaining silent and diverting my eyes.

Being a prude or being rude is a decision to make a decision for someone else. You are either communicating that they should be embarrassed by their buxom condition, or that they should be prepared to be leered at by every fellow who passes by.

We have no right to make decisions for other people.

It is our job to bounce off the desires that each person we meet may express, and honor his or her wishes.

In doing so, we actually begin to approach maturity.

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Bowler

Bowler: (n) a player at tenpin bowling, lawn bowling, or skittles

I am convinced that life is a big tease–just when you decide to become all worked up and excited, she suddenly turns into a prude.Dictionary B

You think it’s gonna work out. You even invest your energy and time, only to discover that the circumstances around you have decided that you’re too ugly for consideration.

That is my experience with bowling.

I have gone bowling about fifteen times in my life. (It could be sixteen.)

But I avoid bowling because I clearly remember how an evening at the alley ends up. There’s a reason they call it an alley–because you always end up sitting on your ass feeling like trash.

I always start out bowling trying to be sensible–taking the right number of steps, dropping the ball with style and grace–but then suddenly realize that if I just “whip it down there,” it starts hooking to the center–and knocks down more pins!

This works for two or three frames–strike, strike, spare, spare. So just about the time that I’m ready to tout my expertise and shout my score… my hook stops hooking.

Yes, the ball, rather than careening into the middle pin to create a strike, seeks erratic maneuvers and starts giving me historical splits.

So by the end of the evening I realize that my peak score occurred about an hour and a half earlier, and I’m back to bowling in the double digits again.

If you’ve never been bowling you may not understand some of my references. That’s good.

I would not want to encourage anyone to start bowling. 

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Augment

Augment (v): to make something greater by adding to it; to increase.

dictionary with letter A

I must warn you that this particular essay may be a bit blunt and graphic.

I am not choosing this profile because I desire controversy, but rather, to explain how powerful ideas can be supplanted by mediocrity.

From time to time when I check the inbox for my emails, I am inundated by offers to “augment” my penis.

They are basically working under the concept that I am dissatisfied with the little fellow. Or maybe it’s the insecurity they wish to play off–that I fear my lover is unfulfilled with my girth or length. It could be just the classic misconception that “big is always better.”

I quickly delete these advertisements, and sure enough, after a few weeks they disappear for a season, only to once again pilfer through, trying to convince me of the dwindling possibility below my belly line.

Yet there are many things I would like to augment. My penis is not one of them.

  • I would like to augment my generosity.
  • I would like to augment my perseverance.
  • I would like to augment my discipline in eating fewer calories.
  • I would like to augment my compassion.
  • I would certainly like to augment my patience.

I could go on and on about what I wish to augment–but I never receive offers on these points of interest, only a proliferation of opportunities to extend my cartilage.

I am not a prude. But I’m also not obsessed with my own sexuality.

I want to live in a world that becomes concerned about augmenting common sense–so that I don’t have to be known by what “Jane thinks about my Dick.”

 

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Attrition

Attrition: (n) the process of gradually reducing the strength or effectiveness of someone or something through sustained attack or pressure.dictionary with letter A

“It was a joke.”

Those four words have become the byline and mantra of a whole generation which feels that humor is best expressed in extremes, attacks and bursts of profanity.

I’m not a prude–at least by my standards.

Maybe in a world of “anything goes,” I might be considered one of the first things that needs to go, but I do become concerned that truly valuable experiences, beliefs and hopes are being starved out from the banquet table of daily consumption.

There are three that come to mind. Basically, these three have been so jilted, jarred and jolted by coarse humor and ridicule that now, to be a proponent of their cause makes you appear old-fashioned or anti-“something or other” that everyone else seems to be pro.

  1. Courtesy.

It’s just a gentle awareness that we share a planet with other creatures instead of staring down at our favorite apparatus as we zoom through the marketplace in oblivion.

I like courtesy. I like that brief moment when a thank you, you’re welcome, excuse me, would you be so kind, or may I ask you? causes us to make eye contact with another human being.

  1. Debate based on history and facts instead of screaming and emotional intimidation.

I would just love to know if something we contend is right could actually survive the scrutiny of the historical perspective, or a scouring shower in real facts. Please don’t tell me I’m conservative or I’m liberal just because I’m curious to find the truth about something you’ve already decided is too hip to deny.

  1. Faith.

I’m not talking about religion. But when you throw out all belief systems and insist that science is your god, you remove the majesty which causes us to be aware of something beyond our own whim and opinion.

Faith is the odyssey one takes in trying to understand why we are the way we are and how perhaps we can do it better.

Yes, I believe that if it requires a God in the heavens to make us more conscientious about our dealings on Earth, then long may He or She reign.

These three things are being sucked from life by coarse jesting and vicious attacks.

They are experiencing attrition.

There are many parts of our society which could afford to be suffocated, but I’m not so sure we can do without courtesy, actual searching for truth and some relevant faith.

 

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Abaxial

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter AAbaxial: (adj.) {botany) facing away from the stem of a plant, especially denoting the lower surface of a leaf. The opposite of adaxial.

Being raised in a Germanic household in the Midwest, where the mention of sex only required a simple pronouncement of “male” or “female” and nothing more, I have not made a practice of looking at the undergarments of plants.

So I’m a little uncomfortable with abaxial.

It sounds kind of sneaky–maneuvering your way behind the hapless greenery to peek under one of its stems and examine the full hidden foliage …

Am I the only one who’s nervous about this?

It’s not a plant’s fault that it has to be so … well, so exposed. That’s the only way it can get sunshine–similar to a voluptuous blonde laying out next to the pool and unfastening her top to gain the rays of the sun to promote her particular brand of growth.

it is not good for me to ogle either one.

Now, it’s not that I’m a prude–it’s more that the wisdom of precautionary action in the realm of the sexual experience will often keep you from the embarrassment of backing up claims in the real world which you have made with your fantasy statements In other words, if you have not talked about your sexual prowess, when the actual moment arrives with your partner, you can always plead inexperience, insufficiency or the classic–“a cold breeze must have blown by.” If you’ve been bragging, then there’s always a season when “pay-up or shut up” unveils all of your shortcomings.

So it’s not so much that I believe in being a prude as that I fear false advertising, and therefore a disappointed consumer.

Yes, sometimes it’s a good idea NOT to sneak behind the plant and look up at it from the backside–in an abaxial mode.

I guess it’s just like real life with real girls. You just wait for them to invite you … to de-petal them.