The Life of Me: Update

So things have been a bit crazy in the life of me and I feel like I have yet to really update you on, well, the life of me. Be it vapid, be it vain that I think this, but I’m pretty sure you might just be curious and whispering to yourself: Did that girl ever stop finding funemployment, fun, thus making it just plain unemployment? Did she ever manage to do anything productive with her life other than write on her blog that only her mom and her boyfriend’s mom read? (Thank you to you BOTH by the way – I truly appreciate the readership and look forward to your comments.)

Well good news. Funemployment has been nonexistent for months now and I’m plugging along with my Social Media Consulting business. I have also taken up writing for a fashion blog, which means I don’t just blog to occupy time and get my jollies but now, as my sister put it, I’m a “real live blogger” and like, a professional and stuff. And I’m working for a couple start-ups to help them grow huge.

I mustn’t forget to mention that I am also spending time with doggies for money, which allows me to be a surrogate dog owner if only for the 15 minute walk I’m required to escort a puppy on.  I’ll totally even pretend a dog is mine when I’m walking it if a stranger asks.

So, such is the life of a freelancer and I’m not going to lie, it’s a sweet one.

Me+Filofax=Organizational Love

You’re probably asking yourself, “How does she do it?!” And I’ll admit, my mind is like a jumble of all these things going on so I recently decided to organize myself via Filofax. If you do not know what I’m talking about please take a second to educate yourself here.

And for the sake of full disclosure because I seem to be spilling it all, I’ll have you know that for some reason, organizational products and the like (school supplies, office supplies, etc.) are my crack because I don’t have a real crack. When I was little, the only exciting thing for me about going back to school was supply shopping. The smell of the new notebooks, the packs of ballpoint pens, the binders and the puzzle. What puzzle? The Puzzle. The Puzzle that was deciphering the best possible way to organize my school life be it through binders, labeled notebooks or clear hole punched folders…adrenaline pumping…breathing quickly.

…Yeah so, call me what you will (nerd, freak, or maybe your long lost twin??), but I still have this heart-pounding love for organizational products. And thus: Filofax.

So I have organized my life now and obsessively make To-Do lists in my apple green, faux ostrich print, leather, size A5 Filofax organizer. And as I mentioned, things are sweet.

Saying “buh-bye” to Corporate America was the best decision I have made in my career ever. You know, my epically long career of almost 4 years now. My, my, time flies.

Anywho – I hope this little update action here, clues you in a bit to my all-too-exciting life and your unending hunger for information about me is at least, temporarily, satiated. I’m going to aim to post more frequently here, as I really do love this blog and I like to keep you updated/enjoy writing about myself. I do feel that I have neglected Miss Y&R as of late and I’m sorry, my wittle bloggy poo. I’ll try to be a better mommy.


Fall is in the Air

So, many of you are weeping as the summer is coming to a close, but surprisingly, I’m rejoicing. I’m not saying that I am looking forward to the frigid cold that is winter in New York. No, no. Believe me, being stuck in wind tunnels created by tall buildings is not my favorite thing. However, the cool, crisp air that is blowing around right now is so nice.

It’s nice for a couple of reasons. No more sweaty subways! Yay! Seriously there are times in the summer when I truly consider moving out of New York City. You know what they say: If you can’t take the heat…and so on.

Also, that delicious smell of autumn that is reminiscint of a barbeque, football games and leaves. Combine them in a pot, stir, pour this mixture into a mini perfume bottle and tell me what I owe ya! I heart this smell.

Let’s not forget Halloween and Thanksgiving and the hints of Christmas. I know, I know—consumerism is getting to me. We’re not even into November yet and I’m already dreaming of the Christmas album I’m going to produce. My family (read: Jewish) will be thrilled when I give them all signed copies for Hanukah.

So as not to get too carried away (because the album cover, above, I spent an hour making, is not yet “too carried away”), I’ll stick with Halloween for now. Costume shopping, candy corn on the shelves, the anticipation of stuffing myself to the brink of vomiting with individually wrapped treats—it’s almost too much for me to bear.

Leaves are starting to change colors (not that this is overly apparent in NYC), I’ll be visiting Connecticut to see my family and go apple/pumpkin picking at the local orchard. And the donuts! Oh, the donuts. Hang on…hyperventilating….

Okay, better.

So as I said, I’m aware that many people disagree with my excitement about the weather shift. It’s okay though, I’m used to the dissent. My mother reiterates every year that despite the fact that polar bears are dying off due to iceberg meltage and their inability to swim between these ever-shrinking platforms to feed, she is happy our winters are becoming more mild due to global warming. Love you, Mom!

If it’s any consolation at all–and this certainly always is for me–you now get to go buy yourself another swanky autumn wardrobe. At least rejoice in that.

Are you with me, or are you like my dearest Mother?

(Fall photo from Man.Hat.In but altered a bit)

Women in Finance, scratch that–the Workplace

From Reuters:

“A lawsuit in Manhattan federal court said it was filed on behalf of employees Christina Chen-Oster (formerly a VP), Lisa Parisi (a managing director) and Shanna Orlich and seeks class-action status.”

Below is a list of some of the incidents of harassment that happened to the above-mentioned courageous women who worked at Goldman Sachs. These women are now actually doing something about their unfair treatment. Read the exact text here from the recent lawsuit filed.

  1. Goldman Sachs female employee was groped/molested
  2. Goldman Sachs female employee was racially harassed
  3. Goldman Sachs female employee put with all female administrative assistants though she should have been sitting on the trading floor
  4. Goldman Sachs female employee was given lower pay for same work and accomplishments as male counterpart
  5. Goldman Sachs female employee was denied a role that male with same qualifications was given
  6. Goldman Sachs female employee was not invited to all-male outings
  7. Goldman Sachs scheduled celebratory outing for a male getting promoted at a topless bar
  8. Goldman Sachs female employee was given menial assignments like setting up senior member’s blackberry when male counterparts were never asked to do this

The lists goes on, I’m sure and I have to say, maybe obviously, I am infuriated by the allegations. I’m infuriated for those women who suffered the mistreatment in the work place, I am infuriated for women who are still suffering this disrespect and I’m infuriated for myself.  I have seen this kind of thing go on first hand and I’ve been treated differently, oftentimes in very discreet ways, in the workplace.

Goldman is obviously trying to refute these statements. But I guarantee you, everything these women allege is 100% accurate.

Many industries, finance specifically, are still a world of and for men where women have few places to go. Bosses are oftentimes men who may not understand us, and frankly, we are scared our advancing careers (however slowly they may be advancing in comparison to our male counterparts) will be halted if we “tattle.” I worked in finance for 3 years and let me tell you, I was asked to answer phones when that duty was far from in my job description. The other male associates were never asked to do this unless literally nobody else was in the office. I have been told to apply “earmuffs” time and time again as one of the bosses drops the “F-bomb” because apparently that is too crude for my lady ears. I have been asked to go deliver work documents for a more senior male member of the team when I was the Manager of Marketing and had no business leaving the office doing people menial favors. I have seen a Summer Associate who had one year of a Columbia University’s MBA under her belt, asked to take a boss’s housekeeper’s son to soccer practice on her way home (WTF?!). I have been expected to take over assistant duties when the actual administrative assistant is absent, presumably because I’m female, as the males were never asked to do this. The list goes on. I have seen a lot of shit personally and nothing nearly as offensive as these Goldman Sachs females endured.

And I’m pissed.

I’m pissed because this goes on every day and there is little women can do to stop it, short of a lawsuit. I’m pissed because there are men reading about this particular Goldman Sachs suit and cracking chauvinistic jokes. And meaning them. They’re blaming the women for dressing too promiscuously, belittling their efforts as employees or something else inaccurate like that. There will probably be men who read this post and categorize me as a radical feminist simply bitching because I’m on my period or something. Men make jokes like this all the time, both in the work place and at home and these “jokes” are toxic and offensive. I’ve been around these types of finance dicks long enough to know that most of the time they actually believe women are inferior.

As a caveat, I understand it may seem that I am making sweeping assumptions here and bucketing all men in finance as chauvinistic pricks. I know this is not the case. I’ve met and worked with men that are not this way, at least not outwardly. However, these environments are such that male superiority complexes are fed and encouraged in a disgusting fashion. Big bank culture and oftentimes the big MBA programs like Harvard and Yale, engrain this mentality in their male employees and students who bring it wherever they go.

Overall, I am saddened by the fact that women are still fighting for equal opportunity in the work place. Masking male-superiority complexes by inviting women into the boys’ clubs to internally mistreat them and cover it up, is eons away from actually believing women are amazing, talented and intelligent bankers (or otherwise) who do their jobs as well as men–maybe even better.

I’ll leave it at that, though I could write pages and pages of angry words about this situation and those like it. To those women who are filing this suit: Thank you. To the people who think they’re lying or overreacting or who are generally inclined to disbelieve sexual harassment claims by women: Screw you. You suck. You’re wrong. Get over yourself. Amen.

Polygamous Television – Yes, please!

Now this is something I can watch. Not that other reality TV is stuff I can’t watch, per se because in brutal honesty, I watch it. Really, really well. I’m only a little ashamed that I put the series premier of this show on my calendar.

The new series is called Sisters Wives and it’s not about sisters that marry traditionally and talk about their marriages. That would be boring. No, no. This upcoming series has been dubbed the real life Big Love, and frankly, ‘nuff said.

I’ll say more.

Sister Wives features one polygamous “family” full of blonde wives, one newbie brunette (thank heavens) and a seriously disturbed man (my assessment). The preview (below) for the show consists of the “family” attempting to convince you, the viewer, that their lives are normal, that they’re all so happy and that they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Do I need to even use the word brainwashed here or is it implied?

In the above video, Cody the pervy “head-of-the-household” says, “I just fell in love. And then I fell in love again. And then I fell in love again,like we’re all supposed to slap our knees and go “Oooooh love! Does such funny things sometimes! Ha! Oh, Cody, you polygamous little bastard! How innocent and fun!”

But it’s not. Neither innocent nor fun, in my opinion. I just don’t buy the ginormous, happy family bullshit. People are not robotic beings. Jealousy, anger and well, specifically, manslaughter (womanslaughter? wifeslaughter?) seem unavoidable in these types of situations. That fat, green, ugly monster, Envy, is bound to rear her hideous head when it’s a Tuesday evening and all Barbara the Mormon wants is to sleep with her husband but it’s Shirley the Mormon’s night. Mother-bleepin’ Shirley.

So as I was saying, I will totally watch this show. If a murder is going to take place on television, I want to be watching. I’d like the story arc to actually become a murder mystery where the women who have been brought up thinking that polygamy is what  “happiness” is, come together as a Mormon Wife Crazy People Uprising and kill the power-tripped, creeper, maybe-he’s-compensating-for-sexual-preference-issues, Cody. I call the rights to this screenplay (that I’ve already started writing) and the subsequent movie deal. Also, if Cody continues to drop cheeseball lines, in the most genuinely creepy fashion, like “She’s a sister from the same Mister and he’s a brother from another mother,” then I’m freakin’ not missing this shit. Oh the fodder I’ll have to make fun of Mormon polygamists!

Though I think this “family” genuinely hopes to educate the public on how wonderful polygamy can be, it’s clear this show will simply make a mockery of them. Feminists and sane people alike (of which I am both) will watch and laugh at these fools as they attempt to portray a healthy lifestyle. And fail.

Can’t. Freakin’. Wait.

Will you watch?

Road Trip to….New Hampshire?!

Car rides with family are always filled with fun stuff, naturally. Everyone gets along swimmingly, we hug and laugh and sing. And cry (from happiness and love). Yeah…so, obviously I’m kidding as I’m sure you have all experienced the horror that can be a family roadtrip.

My particular ride up to New Hampshire could have been worse.

Shortly after departing our house in Connecticut, my sister graced us with her wise words.

She said, “Life is not enjoyable when you have to pee.”

Enlightening, really.

What she selfishly doesn’t realize, however, is that life, and the particular parts of life called “car rides”, are not enjoyable when you’re with someone with a pea-sized bladder. Especially someone who didn’t pee before you left home because she “didn’t need to” and then less than 30 minutes into the ride she gives you a 20 minute warning before she pees in her pants. The pants that are on the leather seat right beside you. Oh, and my sister is 21.

Anyway, as I said, it could have been worse. We made it to Vermont in great time. I “checked in” on Main Street only to find out that even in Vermont there are people who use Foursquare more than I do and thus hold the Mayoral positions at downtown restaurants. Excuse me for being shocked by this. Aren’t Vermonters supposed to be primitive? Aren’t they supposed to wear Birkenstocks, smoke weed and like, read books? What is this with them having social media apps and beating me?

How many Vermonters do you count? I count 12.

But I digress.

We all ate lunch in a quaint little town, which was very ‘Vermont’ if you know what I mean. All the little towns in Nowheresville look the same. An adorable little Main Street catering to the vegetarians and vegans filled, or more accurately, containing a few natives who ever so adorably lack an iota of stylistic sense. Isn’t it so cute how they put socks with sandals and wear ill-fitting clothing? So cute.

So, one argument, three games of hangman and two hours later, we were back in the car and on our way again, only slightly behind schedule.

The rest of the ride seemed to take an eternity as cell phone service began to seem like a distant luxury of our old life back in Connecticut. There was very little to occupy myself as I held in the vomit, which was threatening to show itself on the windy roads. I did get to foil my mom’s epicly long outgoing voicemail recording twice by screaming “AFLAC!” while channeling Gilbert Gottfried as the Aflac duck. My mom works for Aflac FYI, which may help you with the context here, and I believe she was reciting our vacation itinerary in case her clients needed to reach her at any given moment. Well, I put an end to that!

Finally, we reached our destination, The Indian Head Resort, only about three hours after we had planned but whatevs!

Oooh! A Gift Shop?!?!?

Our resort, and I use the word “resort” very lightly, is …uh…interesting! There is a huge sign at the entrance, which reads THE FAMOUS INDIAN HEAD RESORT (see above) and I have been wondering what person or maybe panel of experts bestowed this honor upon Indian Head. I also wonder if the owners of the “resort” missed the memo that we’re calling them “Native Americans” now. I should probably tell them, or at least the lovely workers at the front desk, that “Indians” is highly politically incorrect and those statues of Tonto and Pocahontas in the lobby are stereotypical and maybe just a little bit racist. Do you think they would care? Maybe despite the fact that the main demographic here (and by “main” I mean only) is Caucasian they could take down the teepee and the totem pole on the front lawn?


These fit right in, don't they?

I think families would miss photographing the group in front of these lovely structures. Mine sure would, seeing that we took about 30 different pictures right there, just this morning.

Despite all this however, and upon further inspection, I must say that it does look pretty here. So what the hell, I’ll give the paddle boats and the Magician who makes balloon animals a chance. Maybe even the two-man-band singing the greatest of hits such as Margaritaville, can show me a good time!

Regardless, I will certainly attempt to appreciate my fleeting days out of the car, before the roadtrip home begins! Dun dun dunnnnnnnn!

My Trip to Iowa

So, I headed to the big IA this weekend. What’s IA stand for? That’s right, you guessed it. Iowa. Confused? Probably. Why would anyone from New York or the Northeast voluntarily go to Iowa?!

Sure, they have really nice corn, or so I hear. And yeah, people are supposedly really nice, but that’s just a stereotype of Midwesterners, right? I’m sure there are evil humans there just like in Northeast (read: New Jersey). But despite the pleasant stereotypes and the fact that I have a HUGE crush on sweet corn, I never really thought I’d make it to this particular state. In fact, I never really thought much about it at all.

However, as fate would have it (if I believed in fate, that is) I am dating a person who was born and raised in none other than – you guessed it – Iowa! Anywho – the point is, I went there because he has a friend who is getting married…in Iowa.  So I went there…to Iowa. Right.

The trip really did go off without a hitch and it was quite enjoyable. I came back with nothing but warm and fuzzy feelings for the state and its citizens. I also came back with some things I’d like to share. I’m sure you will agree the below are fascinating thoughts. Read on.

1. Short people on airplanes versus tall people on airplanes.

This is not the first time I have flown nor experienced how unfriendly the airlines are to us tall folk. However, I am going to complain now. And here.

There has been a lot of press lately around obesity on flights and discrimination against overweight people who take up more room than their average-sized counterparts. It’s evident that people are getting fatter. This is mostly a problem with eating habits and lack of exercise, or something like that. Well, guess what? People are getting TALLER too, but that seems to go unconsidered. They have been doing so for centuries and not by any choice of their own.

Ever walk through an old house? You know how the doors are really little? That’s because people used to be really little too. Now only some people are (those less evolved, obviously) but many are tall. Not fat, just tall. Like me. I’m 5’11’’ and it’s not because I wanted to be, it’s because when you come from a family of giants, you are likely to be a giant as well.

I need more legroom. I need my knees not to chafe from the seat in front of me. I need the fact that a 35” inseam should not be seated in the same space as a 29” inseam to be acknowledged once and for all. If airlines refuse to allow individuals to inhabit larger spaces aboard the aircraft, then please put me in an aisle seat. I’m just asking to be as comfortable as the average-height lady or man sitting beside me. I’m not asking for first class. Lawd knows I do not want to pay those prices. I’m just asking for a little shuffle room so when the person in front of me reclines, I don’t need to schedule knee replacement surgery. Please, just ask my height when I purchase the ticket and let me sit in that fancy front row between coach and first class that has double the legroom. Please?!?!

Sigh. Despite being able to reach things more easily and see over peoples’ heads, we tall folk are really living in an average-sized world.

Onto the next and less whiny.

2. HuHot or the best stir fry restaurant on planet earth.

HuHot. Oh, HuHot. My darling, darling Dear. You are so great and I just met you and I had to leave you so soon.

My friends, HuHot is a restaurant where you have unlimited access to an array of meats vegetables and sauces. You fill a bowl with whatever you like and then these men, dressed in adorable HuHot outfits cook it all up for you on a giant wok. Did I mention it’s unlimited? And oh-so-delicious? Did I already say that the wait staff diligently replaces your Diet “Pop” (as they say in Iowa – so cute!) before you even finish the last one? Did I?!

All I have to say is “Mmmmmm”. I L-O-V-E you HuHot. And I am so sad that you do not exist out on my native East Coast. What a shame. What a SHAM! I will consequently be scheduling a cross-country RV trip through all the HuHot states. See my itinerary below.

I will be going to the red states with flags, FYI. The yellow states are dead to me.

3. Iowa has PHENOMENAL grocery stores

I hail from the green land of Connecticut where we go to Stop & Shop or the local grocery store. I live in New York City where every grocery store is dirty and miniature and usually pretty disappointing unless you’re willing to pay a pretty penny for some provisions (alliteration, mmmmm) at a place like Whole Foods or Zeytuna.

So, when I stepped into to Hy-Vee, where even the name is so much more fun, I was overwhelmed with weird delight. It was ever-so-bright. Like day, in there, though it was really night (rhyming, mmmmm). I relate to you, mosquitoes, for flying towards that beautiful bug zapper.

The displays were immaculate, the cookies adorable and the air conditioning combined with the sweet sounds of groceries on shelves made me question my choice of residence. So New York City has things to do. So what? It sure don’t have supermarkets like Hy-Vee.

Check out these gorgeous peppers on display and the corn! Oh, the corn! Boxes of it. Boxes! Don’t ignore the sweet cookies decorated impeccably with lions and smileys. Happiness personified in a display case.


I may have salivated into this box...

We may or may not have taken these babies out of the display after-hours and packaged them to look like they were still for sale...

4. Farms

I’ll let my pictures do the ‘splainin’.

Looks like heaven, smells like poo

Apparently in Iowa, Cows come from milk-loving Kangaroos.

All the little cowsies in a row

Petting the baby. How cute.

And that about sums up my trip. Go Hawks! (They say that a lot there.)

BOOBs. That’s right. BOOBs.

Day: 3

Mood: Mellow

Weather: Sticky hot

Mode of Travel: My feetz in sneakers without socks

Current Location: The New School computer lab (I’m sneaky ‘cuz I don’t even go here!)


So I know you’re all chomping at the bit to read more about me. Little old me, the unemployed, ever-intriguing and endlessly humorous bloggerlady. So I won’t disappoint.

I’m on Day 3, Wednesday to be exact, of my first work week of unemployment and I’m still A-Okay! I wont bore you with what I did today because I really didn’t do anything. I’m going to go a different route here and get a little deeper. I’m going to write about…


Yes, deep I know. But actually my thoughts to come are inspired by a bunch of articles I have read today including one about breast ironing, one on becoming a woman and another on feminism in Mad Men. The below is a bit stream-of-consciousness but it’s my blog and I do what I want. Boobs (or at least the word) make an appearance in each of these topics, so read on.

Boobs in alternative cultures: Lets start with breast ironing, an ancient Cameroonian practice that to us Americans seems downright brutal and horrid. If you’re unfamiliar with this ritual read this article, which has a video as well as an explanation. In short, before a female child develops breasts, her chest is ironed with hot stones in attempt to prevent her growth. The purpose is to stunt breast growth so the child will not attract male attention and to stave off sexual advances. Of course, this oftentimes does permanent damage to the girls and I cannot imagine these young ladies escape without some psychological damage to boot. As a healthy, privileged white American woman, even I have struggled (and still do) with the idea of womanhood and femininity and where I fit in to these categories. These thoughts and feelings are intertwined deeply with the development of a woman’s body and thus I cannot imagine how damaged these girls’ images of sexuality must be post ritual.

Anyway, I don’t have much to say to this practice other than I am abhorred by it. I understand and respect that not every culture is like the one I am accustomed to but it reminds me of the clitoral circumcision that is performed in various African countries, which is incomprehensibly terrible. When a child is harmed without their consent (I’m not counting cultural brainwashing) I disagree strongly with the practices and think they should be done away with. But that’s no surprising declaration, I suppose.

Moving on.

Boobs in becoming a woman: After reading the above-mentioned piece which illustrates the attempted postponement of womanhood, I came across an article by Anna North at Jezebel that poses the question: When do we know we have become women?

My answer to this is, “Uhhh…Um…I..have no freakin’ idea. Am I a woman?”

Frankly, calling myself a woman feels odd even now at the ripe ole age of 24, but by all accounts I am one. North writes that as time goes by for her she becomes more and more comfortable with different aspects of womanhood and I relate to that. I remember dressing like a boy and wearing sports bras to cover my boobs (or lack thereof if I’m being honest) under my t-shirt. Now I like fancy-shmancy bras and sometimes not even wearing them at all (rebellious, I know). Developing breasts was an embarrassing and troubling time in my life, one that I resisted until I could pretend no longer, yet, it did not define my womanhood for me in total, considering, well, I gotz boobs now and still have not totally come to terms with this complicated word, ‘Woman’. So, whatever.


Boobs in Mad Men: Mad Men is one of my favorite shows and part of what I love about it is the feminism apparent within the story. The characters are set in the 1960’s, which was an incredibly trying time for women who suffered from discrimination personally and professionally. It is fascinating, as a woman with many privileges, to see characters that could be me, dealing with the limitations that confined women of that time period.

In an article that I read today by Jessica Grose (on XX Factor), Grose responds, in disagreement to Nelle Engoron’s (of recent article entitled, “Why Mad Men is Bad For Women.” Engoron feels that women are watching the show for style and glitz rather than truly understanding the feminist undertones (which actually aren’t so under, in my opinion). I’m insulted by this assessment as an intelligent viewer who not only loves the fashion and the smoking hotness of the men in suits, but also reads into and adores so much more about the show. I also disagree, along with Grose, that the writers of the show is unfair to woman. When it is unfair, it is because the era (arguably a main character in the show) would have been this way.

The show promotes feminism in many ways. For one, Joan rocks. The writers position her to be a heroine and the only one who’s got all her shit together. The office would fall apart without her and this is repeatedly clear when she comes to everyone’s rescue time and time again. Her strength, wit and intelligence, for me, overshadows her sexy body and her, here we go, BOOBS, by a mile, yet I appreciate her style and her lipstick and her physical beauty even more because of her brain.

Peggy, too, is a strong female figure being the first to rise from the lowly secretary role into an account executive. She does this purely on merit, not by sleeping with any of the bosses (not that she doesn’t get any action) and she earns respect. But she isn’t perfect and sometimes she gets torn down, excluded and stepped on because of her womanhood. This however, is a reflection of the times and an accurate portrayal of male chauvinism engrained in society during the 1960’s.

Overall the show has boobs draped in fabulous clothing, which are sometimes pretty pointy (I’m so glad those bras aren’t in today) but ultimately this is not because the show is sexist and certainly not the only thing the female viewers are thinking about. I think Mad Men is full of poignant social commentary that makes me truly appreciate how far women have come. Though the characters are fiction, their stories likely occurred in some form and I love the show for making everyone look hot while dousing us with feminism in every episode.

Anyway read both Grose’s and Engoron’s articles and formulate your own opinion. Let me know what you think!

To close this somewhat all-over-the-place post (if you haven’t stopped reading by now!), I’d like to leave you with a Boob Timeline, no less. Click on the picture boobs below and enjoy!