When I was about 7 years old I accidentally heard my mother having sex. I stayed quiet so I wouldn’t be discovered but had to keep listening out of sheer curiosity. At one point I heard her say in a whispery, trying-too-hard, bedroom voice “put it . . . between my . . . breaasssttts!”
I was TRAUMATIZED! “Put it between my BREASTS?” REALLY!?!?! Who says that during sex?! And from the lips of MY MOTHER!? From that moment on I’d shiver a little every time I heard the word “breasts.” Well into adulthood I always stuttered a bit while ordering a chicken breast sandwich. I was much more comfortable publicly referring to my poultry as “chicken tit.”
This also became the source of material for countless funny stories. All my friends knew the “breast story.” We laughed and they jokingly teased me about it often.
A couple of years after my mother passed away, I was sharing a bottle of wine with a good friend. We were talking and laughing and eventually an inevitable “breast joke” came up. I told my friend that I was finally over the whole breast thing— that I thought I could finally use the word “breasts” without instantly conjuring up an image of my mother in the throes of ecstasy.
Suddenly her eyes lit up and she screamed “OH MY GOD! I’VE GOT IT! You know what would not only prove to yourself that you are truly over the breast thing but would also be the ultimate tribute to your mother!?!? To put “IT” between your breasts . . . LITERALLY!”
So after rolling around on the floor, gasping for air and nearly peeing in our pants from laughter, that’s exactly what I committed to do. About a month later I got the tattoo– a lower case “it” in 85pt Cooper Black font. I made sure it was placed directly between my breasts. I even had a little bit of her ashes mixed into the ink.
If my mother knew, not only that I heard her getting it on years ago, but also that I had a tattoo commemorating it, she would either be honored or mortified. Deep down I suspect she’d be mortified— which is sweet payback for her ruining the word “breasts” for me.
Although I’ve gotten over most of the breast trauma, I still can’t quite give a good titty fuck without thinking of my MOTHER. Thanks mom.
Haha – you kill me! If your mother only knew – or maybe she does now? So how do you think you’ve mortified your girls? Will the word “fucksaw” be verboten when they grow up? LOL! ;)
Ha! I wondered about the “it” tattoo when you mentioned it before. Now you know to scrutinize any tats your girls get in the future to find out how you have traumatized them. :)
One day in the far off future my kids are going to bond while getting matching fucksaw tattoos. Then they’ll head off to group therapy LOL
OMG! I was wondering when this would be blogged! I Love “It”! What a great Mother’s Day reading.. . Hope no one walks in on my doggy style…
Oh Geez… or any of my positions! LOL!
“Chicken tit” sandwiches eh? LMAO
no your children won’t get fucksaw tattoos, it will be something that you don’t want, like the time they saw you chuckling over a Hallmark card or something.
How did you fit one of your breasts in one hand? That simply defies physics.Your boobs are way to big for that!!
Love, your husband.
It was pretty difficult– half of them are shoved into my armpits. Also I was much thinner then so my boobs were smaller.
The fact that you’re not too squicked by having a reminder each day MUST mean you were meant to be a sex educator!