I want a different body, but I'd rather have a mind that didn't care.

Victoria Secret says I'm a 35D. I'm pretty sure I'm an artist.

I've never wanted my boobs to define me, never thought they could. Recently, I realized how very much a part of me they are. How the shape helps to make the woman. Only looking at me, at my breasts, the story isn't visible to the random passerby. My boobs do have something to say. It's time the world heard them.

Mold #1 already sold at: a production of The Vagina Monologues, 2006



There are two briefly stated reasons why I am making molds of my boobs and attempting to sell them with fifty percent of the profits going to benefit the American Cancer Society. First of all, for those members of my family, any friends, and generally anyone who suffers, or has suffered from, some form of cancer. Second, for myself - to attempt something worthwhile and take a risk that although it may seem small to others, leaves me vulnerable in that moment when I open the page for viewing. Nothing quite like asking others to like and buy what's mine.

You'd probably have to be pretty strange to buy a random pair of boobs online, or pretty cool, in my opinion. Not only will the money go toward a good cause but you'll have a great talking piece for the coffee table, perhaps a fancy new candy dish, or just a great rack. However you look at it, at them, you can't lose and you can certainly give.

Follow the link to the right, "Buy me," for my eBay profile which also answers that question, "why?" In fact, go ahead and explore all those links.


Tomorrow may never come...

Imported directly from my Myspace profile you can see that I spend quite some time worrying that tomorrow will come too late…

Check this. I've been thinking about how pointless I find everything most of the time. How on any given day all I want is to go somewhere and start living because it feels like I'm just rotting in this skin. But moving takes guts and leaves people behind. That dream I have, the one almost every friend has too, the one where I move to the new city and have a real life, meet new people, miss old people, become a new person... I keep saying after I graduate, someday, but there's that song and someday never comes. My goal and declaration here is that I will not run away someday, but that day. This is where I hold myself accountable for the misery I encounter for not making that day, today.

In other aspects of the phrase… it was Memorial Day not too long ago. Those we love gone and going… The thought that this sunset could be the last I'd ever see makes me long to watch it with arms wrapped around friends… friends I haven't spoken to in weeks. Did I tell them I love them? My niece is only four, I haven't gotten to know her, nor her I… it feels like there isn't enough time in the world for all the people I want to love. But perhaps time is man-made and I can stop counting minutes and start writing emails. Tomorrow may never come so I'll value each day, my entire life, and try even when it's hard, when it hurts, to remember the times I wanted to live and the people I have and will love.

And here's a chest to hold this thought.

Mold #10 sold: $10 donated to the American Cancer Society


A song

~my inspiration

There was a time when I sang the body electric… when I found soul and dreams more important than thin beauty. The more I sang the more my own body shown, the more the universe within whispered through. But of late I run and eat for all the wrong reasons and I'm not buying any love. No matter what shape a person becomes, a thought, a feeling, can alter the view, not just out, but coming in.

Walt Whitman sang the body electrified by soul, words, and passion. A body is a home, a woman, a man, a future - no matter the shape, color, or wear. The body portrayed in the magazines and movies of today is less of a "divine nimbus" and more a tribute to meat than soul. We speak more than words, but entire galaxies with the motions and postures we extend.

The body is not meant to be seen for the bra or waist size, but for the universe of soul it reflects, hides, is. I'm tired of wanting your judgment, apologize for how I've let myself fade… I too, will sing the body electric again.

~ Walt Whitman "I Sing the Body Electric."

Mold #9 sold: $31 dollars donated to the American Cancer Society


all said with love...

I'm so sorry I ever hurt you. I hate that you kissed her. I hate you for making me cry. Because I'm jealous, because I hurt, because I'm alone…

I wanna make promises, I wanna say forever, and even if it falls to shit that's how I'll live because it makes you stronger. Hold me…

I hate you, for making me hate myself. Regret. Memories. Let go already! I just want to go back to the way things were…
Maybe we're through. Make me feel again, anything. Why don't you want me? I love you, I think about you all the time…
I feel pink. Torture…
With love, more than I ever would have imagined.

Am I the one holding the needle?

Mold #8 sold: $10 donated to the American Cancer Society

I want to...

be more.

You change. Or, you make mistakes, mistakes that become you, a pattern, a dark hole you can't resist, can't stop falling down over and over again because the familiar falling and that rush of air are so much better than nothing. Plug in that sweet sad music and write. Wrong words said, wrong choice made... I will not let my mistakes characterize who I am. I will spray paint the walls. I am this promise, more than my failures... More despite the cracks, more because I grow out of them, move beyond them.

An amazing friend told me she would not give up hope, that I would learn, that I am more. This is for her... and more.

Mold # 7 sold and $10 donated to the American Cancer Society


Boob vs. the Volcano

A little less than a year ago, when I began this project, I lovingly and laughingly referred to it as my Boob Enterprise. I tried to come up with a creative title and had a web-work of scrawls filling a page with "breast" lingo. What do you call them - after all, they're used for various purposes with designated labels that depend on the person doing the labeling. For example, when referring to someone's classy tits it's slightly more refined to speak of her bust. It's also a fact that one in eight women does not get "boob" cancer, rather she will deal with "breast" cancer. However, four in ten men don't ogle at mammaries - but hooters, jugs, or bazooms they'll stare at for hours. Sometimes they're knockers, other times a rack. What about jugs, tits, mere cleavage, ta-tas, bosom, udders, perhaps globes, honkers, or simply put, body parts. So many names and it all depends on how you say it and how you've heard it said before.

As testified by dictionary.com, the word "boob" is actually vulgar slang for the female breast. But which of the seven non-obsolete definitions for vulgar applies in this scenario? It would seem I've gone the wrong route in selling "boob" molds rather than "breast" molds as it implies a lack of taste, can be thought of as obscene, or heaven forbid – common, as well as lacking in charm and aesthetic value.

Consider instead the word "breast". Yeah, check out the definition on that one. So formal, so dry, so anatomic, so… politically correct. While I have nothing against the word breast I think there may be too many people with a grudge against "boob." From my first brainstorming session I came to the conclusion that "boobs" are more personal, simple, and comedic with a hint of blunt. They harbor no ill feelings of superiority over their fellow breasts or ta-tas but underwire them all. Don't get me wrong - this is a serious matter, my words are heavy words and cancer is no joke… But I ask you, who could survive without laughter?

When it comes to my mind, and molds, boob and breast are interchangeable, as I like a little laughter with my love. Though I'm not throwing out the word as trash, I think I will revise my eBay titles as I have hope that the word "breast" gets more hits than "boob" and perhaps the serious needs to be read before the humor.

But again, I ask you to add some absurdity to your lives and keep a pair of boobs on the coffee table and hopefully work to save the lives of those suffering from cancer, whether in breast or otherwise. More tit for your tat so to speak.

And as for the title of this piece, it just flowed for some reason.