DangerBoobs

A while back, I took a photo of my boobs. No – I’m not an aspiring porn star – I was riled up over the idea that breastfeeding is obscene when it’s perfectly acceptable that they are shoved in our faces to sell everything from beer to cologne and decided to blog about it. Anyway, I long since stopped thinking about the photo.

Until about a month ago when my husband was using my computer and told me he needed to ask me something. He said it in that tone. You know the one - the “we need to talk” tone. My heart was in my throat until he asked, “Why do you have a photo of your breasts on your computer?”

Oops.

See, he knows I blog. He didn’t for a long time, but eventually (when I started meeting up with other bloggers in real life) I had to come clean. But while he knows I blog, he doesn’t know any more than that. He doesn’t know where I blog, or what I blog about. He has never read my blog (as far as I know – if I’m wrong..Um…Hi Honey! Love you!) or even asked to. He’s not a computer-type guy. He doesn’t know anything about blogging or facebook or twitter. It’s just not his thing. I think he believes that computers are run by tiny elves or fairies or something. Either that or it’s learned helplessness since I am always here to do computer-y things. Probably both. It’s sad, really.

Anyway, I explained why I took the photo (actually I told him that I took the photo for a breast cancer thing – which is true – but then I used it on my blog. I left that part out since – as I said –he just doesn’t get blogging). Anyway, he knows me and after I explained it, he was fine.

Since mr b was screwed over laid off in August, he has been working for himself as a carpenter/woodworker. I’ve been taking photos of different projects he has been doing. Since I take a lot of photos in general, I tend to load them onto the computer and delete the memory card pretty frequently. And for some strange reason, the boob photo never deletes. Three-hundred other photos will go away just fine, but not the boob photo. Apparently my boobs are magical.

I noticed this phenomenon one day when I took my memory card to a photo printing machine in Giant Eagle and treated several other shoppers to a virtual peep show. But since I am old and forgetful, I immediately forgot about it. Or maybe it was because I went home and drank. One of those.

Fast forward to yesterday.

Mr b wanted to get prints of some of the photos to show to a client. But since printer ink is made of unicorn blood and costs seventeen trillion dollars and ounce, we only have black right now. So he needed to go somewhere to have them printed (he didn’t know I had already cleared the card). And being a non-computer person (or more likely – “helpless” person who didn’t want to put any thought in to how to use the self service machines), he headed to K1nkos.

You see where this is going, don’t you?

When he got to K1nkos, he got an employee to help him. Some young K1nkos employee got him to a machine and inserted the card. And the only photo that popped up on the screen? You got it. MY BOOBS! I’m sure the kid was scarred for life. Not only are my boobs magical, they’re dangerous!