Boobs for Beads

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Thought For the Day:

“They cannot take away our self respect if we don’t give it to them”

Mahatma Gandhi

Question For the Day:

Do you sell yourself cheap?

Okay, it’s been a long day.  I’m tired, the kids are out of school, and my husband is off tonight so, my energy is split.  I’m going to keep this brief.  Besides, no one is following this blog yet, so no harm no foul.   My kids are out of school for Mardi Gras.  They actually have three days off for it which is mind boggling to me because I was raised in California.  I now live on the Mississippi Gulf Coast and I’m a hop, skip, and a jump from New Orleans and these people take their Mardi Gras seriously.  I have never in my life heard of taking kids out of school so that parents have enough time to party, get drunk and recover before resuming normal activities.  No shade though. Do you Crescent City.  Anyway, tomorrow is what they call, Fat Tuesday.  I’ll admit that I don’t know much about it all.  I’ve read some on the history of Mardi Gras but it’s pretty convoluted.  From what I understand, it’s a hodgepodge of Catholic rituals with some questionable pagan roots. All I know is that rich people throw masquerade balls, drunk people parade at ridiculous times of the night, moon pies have their time to shine, people eat cake with plastic baby toys hidden in them, and people grapple for beads like a superstitious bridesmaid fights for a wedding bouquet.   It’s a spectacle, trust.

Because Mardi Gras is known as the “greatest party on earth,” people come from everywhere to turn up.  Unfortunately, for many women, turning up includes their shirt.  Somehow it seems to have become traditional for women to score more beads by lifting their shirts and flashing their breasts.  Um okay, let me get this straight.  I’m supposed to let you, drunk stranger guy, gaze upon my uncovered temple, feast your eyes on the most intimate parts of me, allow you to grope and ogle me, listen as you scream whisky-laced profanities in reaction to your observations, ravage my dignity and reduce my expansive and vastly profound womanhood down to a couple of fun bags for you to stare at? Uh….. no.  I don’t know what the going rate for self respect is, but I’m pretty sure it’s a bit more than the price of a plastic bead necklace that likely came from the bargain bin at Family Dollar. (ijs)

“Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God?  You are not your own.”

1 Corinthians 6:19

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