153 words, but bonus frontal nudity(Somewhere in Connecticut, Philip Roth's mood lightens, and he can't say why...just feels proud all over in an "Everytime a shikse shows her things, a Jewish writer gets his wings," kind of way.)

Removing her blouse with the first guy she made out with was easier than it should’ve been. After all, she’d never taken her shirt off with intent to do anything but change or wash something. It was hard to connect what was on her body to Cosmo Girls’ outthrust marketed orbs, but there had been over fifty attendants through there so she felt about as modest as Madonna in a photo shoot. She wondered if it made it less special and considered pretending, but it wasn’t as if he had a lot to compare her to.

“You’ve got great tits,” he said, somewhat laboriously.(She might have preferred “You’re so great.” But that’s the problem with life; it doesn’t have her way with dialogue.) But she still reclassified her breasts, watching him look at them, even though she knew what made her bold had little to with him, and nothing to do with love.

erika, I like that. Multiple reveals, breasts and revealing something to herself as well.

Thanks, Deb.

Going along with the breastes theme, erika started. Magnificently, BTW.

Almost like Samson

They used to precede her into the room. We always viewed her as an Amazonian type woman. “These are my breasts and they are large.” Shoulders back, chest out, she was a woman proud. The years of carrying them, and her persona around, led to the stooping of her shoulders. She stopped being the woman I knew and admired. When I saw her after the surgery, I was curious. She got out of the shower and came into my room, wrapped in a towel. “Come on, Mom. Let’s see em!” She lowered the towel, and I saw the woman returned.

drabbling, no title:

Dear Angie - Thanks for the spa day invite! Unfortunately I won't be able to make
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Thanks, Angie! Super sweet of you, but I'm
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Angie, I can't take you up on your spa day offer. I don't really know how to tell you this, so I guess I'll just tell you. I slept with your husband. I'm so sorry. It's over, it won't happen again, but you and he need to talk. I know you won't ever want to see
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Hey babe! Thanks, but I can't make the spa day...but let's meet for coffee tomorrow...I need to talk to you...
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Angie - Sorry, can't make the spa day. Coffee tomorrow? 10:30, Neutral Grounds, the purple armchairs?
[Send]

Raq, that's good, funny and sad at the same time. Aimee, I really related to that one.

choking on coffee

Oh, my, Raq. You're evil.

I just got a very interesting offer. Not the Kinkaids - do I want to co-write or ghostwrite a non-fiction by someone famous (male), on the subject of "The Ten Women You Meet In Your Life".

Hell yes. If my husband is about to lose his job, I'll take a fat non-fiction advance in a heartbeat.

do I want to co-write or ghostwrite a non-fiction by someone famous (male), on the subject of "The Ten Women You Meet In Your Life"

What?! More info, please! That could be a wonderful opportunity. It never hurts to get your foot in the door for work like that, which can be very helpful during a dry spell.

Amy, it's the nice man who let us have his posh digs at the Trump. He's going to ring me up later tonight. Jo says he's terrified. She just called him a dork.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

I love that drabble, Raq.

I just got a very interesting offer. Not the Kinkaids - do I want to co-write or ghostwrite a non-fiction by someone famous (male), on the subject of "The Ten Women You Meet In Your Life".

Yay, Deb!