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  1. Mammary Moment By Rhonda Hansome

    Thursday, October 10, 2013

    During my prepubescence, when Mom came home from work, I noticed her 1st order of business.  She took off her bra like she was releasing the hounds.  The contents of that engineered for strength contrivance, tumbled from her brassiere in a compelling and vaguely frightening galumph.  Freed of her restraints she'd scratch, sigh and become herself.  In quiet pre-teen moments I'd consider the industrial size contraption Mom donned daily and ponder the unknown future of my chest.

    Alas and alack, when my (two different sized) globes finally arrived they seemed for decades, too little too late.  Ahh, how time takes her toll... Who knew the girls, still different sizes AND without my consent, would began a mid-life adventure?

    Ironically their 10 year escapade had a two pronged approach: 
    1) They embarked upon a determined journey toward my knees.
    (Full disclosure, the bodacious southward trajectory of my tata's has, of late, been intercepted by the sudden expansion of my waistline.)
    2) The girls took on a heft and weight that Victoria and all her secrets couldn't sustain.

    After a decade of rebellion against Victoria's strapless, sport AND underwire confines, 
    my orbs sued me for non-support. 
    The bitches summoned attention with another crafty one, two punch...

    Like cutting off my oxygen supply was not victory enough, they then instigated a panic attack that forced me to remove in public, the so-called bra I was wearing.  Full disclosure, it was not just in public where I had to remove that offensive piece of upper underwear.  I was in high anxiety mode AND running across a six lane highway, in a futile attempt to escape the increasing pressure in my chest and my life.  Did I mention I happen to be in a full out housing conundrum? I mean full out like get me and all my stuff out of where I live and to a place I can afford.  Oh yes, thank you gentrification, now I can't afford the borough of my birth, Brooklyn.

    Good bye Bed-Stuy!

    Will the girls and I find a fitting yet affordable place to reside before Oct. 31st?  Damned if I know.

    To be continued...

    Rhonda Hansome seeks a 1 bedroom apartment, under $1000.00 a month, where she's not asked to disclose how she manages, without significant income, to consistently pay her rent on time. Suggestions?

  2. 4 comments:

    1. Oh Rhonda, I wished I had a suggestion. To my knowledge nowadays, they want to know how often we shit. The only ways I know of to avoid that financial questioning is a room in someone else's place. I know you don't want that. The only other thing I know that people have done is move into a place where the landlord isn't pushing it because he's doing something wrong by renting (either fire hazards or something like that where he's not supposed to be renting it).

      I loved the blog and look forward to the next one.

    2. RHC said...

      Thanks Mindy, Yes they not only want to know how often we shit, they want samples...

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