The first time ever I saw his face…Donny Osmond. Oh mommy how he turned my five year old insides out!! Donny & Marie, Marie sweetly croons “I’m a little bit cuuunntttryyyy” to Donnie’s growl “An I’m a little bit RRRRRRRRRAWKEN roll…” Oh boy!! He sure knew how to wear a pair of hip huggers (not to mention the chunky clunky male high heels that were popular at the time and made his legs look like long, tall sticks. HOT!). Some of the happiest days of my young girlhood was spent running around the yard with my sisters in my purple hiphugger pants, no top, pretending I was one of the Osmond brothers. And one of the saddest days of my young life was being told by Mom and Dad that I would now have to start wearing a shirt with said purple hiphuggers.
I never felt that topless outdoor freedom again until the sports bra was invented – then it was full steam ahead for the topless outdoor me. That one little slice of stretchy fabric over some round globules on my chest somehow makes everything socially acceptable. Yeah it blows my mind too. Sometimes I’m tempted to go ALL THE WAY off my rocker and just start running around topless like the Osmond brothers again. I probably would get as far as the mailbox before some well-meaning citizen called 911.
Seems strange that we outlaw the public display of breasts, yet we can’t seem to outlaw guns that are used to hunt people. Hmm. Seems like I should be able to find enough well-meaning citizens . . .