I was goofing off online one day, clicked on a title of a health food topic and a video popped up. A woman in a fitted, red sweater with large breasts and big, Texas-style blonde hair began talking about nutrition.

She hadn't even gotten three words out before I turned it off thinking, "I can't listen to some stupid, gigantic boobed bimbo."

Whoa! Hold on, Dana! Are you actually judging this person as unintelligent based on her hairstyle and boob size?

I sat silently for several minutes, stunned by my superficial ego.

Then I was hit by another disturbing fact.

My boobs are the same size as hers.

Cripes.

I stared out the window even longer, realizing that I can be a total jerk. Once I fully snapped out of ego/inner bully-mode, I was ready to try again.

I clicked on the video and happily discovered that this woman's nutrition information was useful and insightful.

Okay. That's it! I have learned my lesson. I will not scrutinize and label people any more!

Well....you can imagine how long that high-minded resolution lasted. It was probably within the hour before I judged myself or Pauly.

Egos find a million ways to keep us in the cycle of believing that we are only finite bodies and personalities. And constantly evaluating ourselves and others is a great way for the ego to do that.

But I forget that. All of the time.

As it turns out, I was only judging her because she was clearly comfortable wearing a fitted top with her big ol' boobs and I am totally not.

I also realized that my crazy ego only judges other heterosexual females like this. My lesbian friends with huge knockers can reveal their curves all they want. My inner bully doesn't care. All stacked gay girls get a free pass! How 'bout that? Lucky dyke ducks.

For years, I've been worried that my breasts are too big. Too much. Too sexy. Too suggestive.

So I hide them under loads of layers and huge, baggy shirts as if they are shhhhhhhhh! [loud whisper] THE MOST TOP SECRET HOOTERS IN THE WORLD! Nobody outside of Pauly or close friends who hot tub at my house are ever gonna catch a glimpse of these mysterious adipose sacks. I make sure I buy clothes that aren't fitted, yet not 100% frumpy (I like 'em at about 92% frumpy) and have been doing this since I got married 23 years ago. I've noticed that in many photos, I've even adopted a slouched posture to make my breasts seem smaller.

I spend way too much energy trying NOT to have my boobs be noticed.

As I hold this feeling of shame or fear about my body being "too much", I am totally identifying as a body/personality and I'm not remembering my true nature as spirit/energy.

The surprise run-in with the well-endowed, health food video lady reminded me of what I am and what I am not.

I AM NOT a big boobed human.

I AM a perfectly whole, infinite, spiritual being having a spiritual experience in a big boobed human body.

And that's why I write this blog...to help me remember who I really am more often than I forget.

And boobs.

I just wanted to write that wacky word one more time because I cannot believe I just did a post about them.

About what?

About boobs.

Okay. That's enough, Dana. You're just being silly now.

You're right. I am...I'll stop being a boob.

Seriously. Grow up.

Okay.....................................................B O O B S!

Really?!

Yep.

So, in summary, I wrote this post to make a grand point about our eternal spiritual nature being so much more than our human bodies, then I undermined it at the end by shouting about boobs like a 10 year old.

On the bright side, as result of pondering this topic, I'm no longer interested in putting energy into hiding my body. I even went out and got a couple of tight fitting, thrift store t-shirts to remodel in. I put on the one in the blog pic and Pauly said that we'll never get any remodeling work done ever again. Oh well!

Okay, then. Thanks for reading. It feels really good to get all this off my chest. You might even say...I'm finally bustin' out!