I think a lot about who I am to other people in the world–particular who I am to strangers as a mere concept in their lives.
Today this woman called our information desk and said, “my son’s band is playing tonight. I want to come see him, but he never answers his phone…..I want to be there. Have you heard anything about his band?”
And I felt so bad for this lady but I’m not in the music scene around here so I had to tell her no, sorry.
Five hours later, I’m hiking and run into a group of guys setting up for some outdoor performance, and as I watch them unload the drums it hits me.
“Hey,” I said, “are y’all in a band?”
They said yeah and smiled and I told them “one of your moms called today. She wants to watch you play, but she can’t get a hold of you. Call your mom.”
And they all pulled out their phones and started discussing whose mom it probably was as they presumably dialed their own.
And now, unless we meet again and recognize each other, that’s who I’ll be forever to those guys–some mysterious courier for mom-messages who came out of the woods and told them their mom called.
I didn’t even tell them why their mom called me. Who am I to their mom?? Nobody even asked. They just took my word for it and called their mothers.
So many of the comments are like “but her boobs looked fine, they were beautiful, stop attacking people’s art style, fucking feminists, why do you hate beauty?”
Okay, but the issue here is that gravity exists, and boobs cannot realistically stay up no matter what. Lying down, lying sideways, leaning, etc., all make your boobs move! Often when you’re lying down, they smoosh over to the sides and become flat as hell. Gravity is a thing, people. The issue here is that the first drawing doesn’t take gravity into account. It’s incredibly unrealistic.
Let people with boobs joke about their boobs in peace. This isn’t some feminist statement or an attack on beauty. It’s a joke about boobs and how boobs work. People with boobs know better than you what boobs are like, thanks.
Midnight Caffeine 