Didn't know they were imbued with superpowers, did you?
Well, neither did I until I read this. It seems my secret identity as the Cavernous Cleavage Girl has been discovered.
Curses! And here I thought I hid it so well.
Mild mannered stay-at-home mom by day, sex kittenish superhero by night. How could anyone possibly recognize me? The lighting is so different. Plus, I put my hair up during the day, wear comfortable shoes, sprout carefully cultured 12-hour zits, and drive a mid-sized (armored) SUV.
To the untrained eye, I'm your average soccer mom.
But fear not! I vow to continue to "stun and mystify savage male bloggers everywhere."
Just as long as my stylish collection of appliqué vests doesn't impede the view, I'm golden.
What? You didn't think I would stop talking about the girls now that my secret is out, did you?
No way! If I do that, the terrorists win. And Mr. Engineer, too.
(Who, by the way, has admitted defeat and will no longer plague me, spouting inanities about too much boob talk or other such nonsense. Guess he didn't know who he was messing with, huh?)
In other news, my husband has reversed what I have long thought was his position on the heated Butt, Boob, or Leg Man debate.
A decade ago, he told me he was a Leg Man. And as you can imagine, I died a little inside that day.
I have a butt, and I have boobs, but my legs? Not really my best feature.
However, the subject came up again recently, and he is now denying that he ever took a stance.
But even though he says my boobs are great, he's still not declaring himself a Boob Man.
Oh, when will my sweater puppies ever get the love and respect they deserve?