I have been reading TV literature for about twenty years now, and one thing I have noticed is that there seems to be an aversion to speaking about bodily functions. (No, I will not descend to the level of toilet humor, thank you. For that you can watch cable TV.) This always seemed to me rather odd, as we put so much effort into changing our bodies. Way back when, when I was experimenting with creating a more feminine figure, I would have loved advice on how to do it, but such intimate details were not available. I stuffed bras with washcloths, ice bags filled with an incredible array of fluids (trying for the right feel but the caps always were in the way), water balloons (dangerous, I warn you), and several things I won't admit to, even to this day. It was a relief to finally be able to afford a real breast inserts. I sculptured foam for hips, corseted my potbelly, altered dresses and wasted a lot of time and money.

So it was with delight that I read Binthar Dundat's comments on ah... well... ah... breaking wind. Notice how I stumbled there? Why is it that a person who swears like a trooper when upset has to wriggle and search for a polite term for something everybody does all the time when putting words on paper? As I write this it's over 90 degrees and my body is ah... well... ah... perspiring. (Remember - Men sweat, Ladies perspire. I hope you're doing it properly.) My stockings are wet enough to be fishnets, the kind you throw in the ocean and get soaking wet catching fish, not the kind they wear in those magazines behind the counter in the drug store. My bra weighs about a pound more than when I put it on and I won't even describe what the silicone falsies are doing next to my skin. Clammy nylon sticking to your behind is a sensation they don't talk about when you read about the joys of femininity.

If I'm doing this for the joy of it, what the heck does a genetic woman do to cope. I have a friend, a large and well endowed woman, who is a fine blues singer. Recently at an outdoor festival she was singing in the sun and the sweat stain on her right breast covered half her body where the guitar rested. Half of me was relieved that I wasn't the only one with the problem, but the other half was annoyed that society will not let her take off her shirt and be comfortable without obnoxious comments or arrest.

We have an annual event here in the Rochester NY area, the topless picnic. It's not the media circus it was when it started, and there are no longer so many obnoxious men who "attend" for the thrill, but annually a small group of women have a family picnic in a public park to protest this form of sex discrimination. The first year everyone was arrested for indecent exposure, but eventually released because this was a constitutionally protected form of free expression. Notice, the ruling said you can undress to express your political views, but a woman still can't be comfortable on a hot day in public, that's still illegal. (Note: since I wrote this NY has made it legal for a woman to be topless if it isn't for 'business purposes'. Nice euphemism, that.)

So anyway, my solution has been to make a couple of pads out of half inch foam rubber and an old towel, that insert behind the falsies and act like sponges. It works OK for a while, but I have to stop now and go wring them out. With any luck, my stockings will catch enough fish for dinner tonight.