I’m sure you are quite disappointed right now, some of you may have actually been expecting a picture of my actual breasts
blushes (if you do want to see them, you will have to take a look at my Vacation in Jamaica post, and do tell me what you think?). Let me continue, am I referring to chicken breasts or my own breasts for this post? Well if you guessed my breasts, you are correct, though at this time I do not have a prize to give you, hopefully instead I will either make you laugh, give you food for thought at that next meet the teacher night or just make you say out loud WTF?
When my children were in elementary and high school, I attended all of the “meet the teacher nights” , in hopes I could pump the teacher about how my child was doing. Now, thankfully there was never any bad news to deal with, besides I would hope the teacher would give me a phone call, if my child was
fucking up ready for Mensa.
Okay, now fast forward to I think grade ten, meet the teacher night at high school for middle child, where it was held in the cafeteria. I don’t know what they were thinking when they decided to stuff god knows how many parents, their teenagers and the teachers in a room where the windows didn’t open. It was exceptionally “hot” in the room.
After meeting a number of teachers, middle child was still quite intent on me meeting one more, it may have been her history/geography/autocad instructor, it is all quite blurry to me now. After walking up to the gentleman, middle child made introductions, and then, well, my words “Thank you for not looking at my breasts, most people do when they first meet me”.
I don’t remember what the teacher said in response to my comment. I do remember being outside afterwords with middle child, who is yelling “WTF MOM!”. I had no answer. The room was hot.
Note: I did not show my face at another “meet the teacher night again”.