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No More Free BOOBS

Being of a sagacious turn of mind, I sense some of you are reading this blog entry scratching your heads and wondering to yourselves, "Something's...different. Wonder what it is?" Unless you have a Y chromosome, in which case you probably took one look at the title and started thinking something along the lines of, "Boobs? Where? I have to pay for them now? Can I have some please?"

To answer the first question you need only look to the right of your screen to spot the funky yellow PayPal donation button I recently installed. It's towards the top. It might be hard to find what with the numerous other link buttons cluttering up that half of the screen, most of which I no longer have a clue what they all do. But trust me. It's there. Somewhere. Declaring my shame.

This newest addition is the result of dwindling finances. As mentioned before, I'm going back to school to get my English degree and my checking account is suffering for it. The books alone are a small fortune, never mind the cost of tuition. To make matters worse, my classes are cutting into my work schedule during the week, forcing me to take any stray chair massage jobs I can find on Sunday, my one day off. Chair massage is hit or miss. My boss may need someone. He may not. And even when he does, there's no guarantee that I'll make enough to cover my losses from missed work at the spa. I'm working Superbowl Sunday at the casino, by the way. If you happen to be there between 6pm and God knows when, you might spot me there. I'll be the chick clutching onto a purple cushion with a face filled with despair and exhaustion. I realize I've just described half the clientele so...never mind.

I was discussing my financial woes with a coworker the other day, a fellow massage therapist who, like me, had been interested in going back to school, but was also stalled by her own money problems. I made a remark about changing my name to Charity and maybe standing outside with a tin cup in my hands begging for alms. I also mentioned I was thinking of putting one of those "tip jar" donation buttons on my blog, though I had serious doubts as to its profitability.

"I'd probably have to threaten to show MY BOOBS to get anything out of it," I said, jokingly.

We both shared a good laugh over that, but the creaky wheels inside my head began to turn and I had to ask myself, just how much is my dignity worth? Is it worth paying off the $600 I owe in tuition? Is it worth the $200 a month hospital bill I will probably be paying off for the next two years? Is it worth my monthly rent, food in my fridge, and the inevitable bill I will have to pay when my car breaks down yet again? Why, yes, I said to myself. Yes, it is.

So that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to sell a little bit of my dignity. Press that PayPal button and make a donation. Trust me. It's there, beckoning you, whispering in a sultry voice for you to press it. Give a little. You know you want to, you coy minx. Any amount will do. In return for your kind generosity, I promise to show you MY BOOBS. We'll make the goal $50. I don't think MY BOOBS are worth any more than that, and I realize you only have my word that I will actually go through with this outlandish idea of showing you MY BOOBS. Therefore, as an act of good faith, I'll go ahead and show you half of the goods:

Bow chicka bow wow!



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