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The Naked Housewife™ and the Garbage Day Oooops! - From the past

Date: June 23, 2018

      My friend supplied this one:

      “I ran out in my negligee to pull in garbage cans rolling down the street in a windstorm. Wind blowing the negligee over my naked butt and breasts, and there were all these male neighbors doing the same thing. And they all stopped and stared. Apparently I had stupidly thought no one would be out there but moi!”

       Apparently, great minds think alike.

      While in Massachusetts one winter, I found myself running up the sloped driveway over ice and snow to get the garbage can out, barefoot in nothing but my thin flannel nightgown, which was thread-bare thin. Barefoot of course. Jiggle jiggle jiggle. I ran back in and wondered where my brain had gone.

      Here in sunny California, Fremont to be specific, I tend to roam around the house in a slippery thin tank top and shorts – a shortie pajama set. Barefoot, even though the doctor has scolded and scolded. “Orthotics or heels!” Well, I may need surgery to get back into heels.

      So I have found that, with the Fremont garbage truck clanging and banging its way around the corner, I will run out barefoot and in said Shorty PJs. Mustn’t disappoint the garbage guys!
I apparently believe if I run fast enough, no one will notice.

      However, when the 46+ DD+ was too much for me, and were lopsided to boot, I had undergone breast reduction. (They are trying to grow back and doing pretty good at it. Damn.) My doctor had come into the room and asked me afterward, “How does it feel to be constantly perky?” Because, you are. Perky. And some things were not reduced.

      This means, as I have recently discovered, that being braless (my fav state) in that skimpy outfit, I am perky.


      I knew there was a reason that I always wore the bras that had a lining. And now hunt for the ones with “petals”.

      At just under 200 (Oh, I hope I am still under 200lbs), I am evidently putting on quite a show. One neighbor chases me down on his motorcycle or his truck, stopping in the center of the street to be sure I turn around to greet him when I am walking my beagles.

      I now walk my beagles wearing a form bra that shows nothing!

      Too late!

      He also took to proposing to me in full voice. (His Nickname is Crazy Dave.) Oh good.

      I moved 500 miles to San Diego.





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