This could be called why I need to throw file cabinets in front of me part 2.     Even though I am having new confidence after starting this blog, I am still not confident enough to try clothes on in the dressing room.  I bought  a new dress today.

Here it is, my girls are angry and not loving it and I will tell you why later.   You can see belt fastened on the last hole, plenty of fabric around the hips, but man the girls can’t breathe and it gets worse. I end up with a lot of clothes that don’t fit me.

Another reason I don’t trust myself at work around superhot boss guy.   It isn’t just them, it isn’t.    When I was with ex one time and this is in the later years of being with him, this is after Chris, this is just one day when he is travelling for work and his good friend comes over to drop off equipment.  I lead him back into the storage area that you had to go through our bedroom and through our bathroom to get in.   That happened all nice and right.  I was leading him out of our house.  He was following close behind me.

I don’t know why I did what I did next.  I don’t remember a thought in my head.  I remember being very clear about what I was doing and leading him out and then I stopped.  I stopped right when we started to enter the living room. I turned around thinking it would be nice to have a kiss.  I stopped and closed my eyes and tilted my head up and then I felt him in my mouth.  His hands on my body and realized that this was much more than a kiss, up my sweater and then up my skirt still kissing and kissing and moving me around until I was going in the opposite direction.

He pulled my skirt up that I remember because he seemed surprised that I wasn’t wearing underwear.  As I mentioned before Ex didn’t like me wearing underwear, he was into pussy on demand.     He was backing me up toward the bed, when he noticed the free access he said, “Nice” and it sounded very dirty.

He tossed me on the bed in a very crooked way and I am not even sure how this happened because it seemed like just one moment ago he had pants on and we were being nice , normal people.  He must have done something while distracting me with the kissing because I so meant it to stop, I didn’t mean to fuck him but then suddenly he was plowing into me like a motherfucker.

My clothes were still on and he was standing over me or something, while I laid on the bed.  What I remember most was that feeling of my head going all white and my cells tingling, and then my brain saying no, no, no, can’t do this stupid whore, that and the top of my head banging against the headboard of the bed. Tell him to stop, tell him to stop, my brain told me.  At first I just said, “ssss”  “ssss” and  then “ssssttt” and then I finally gasped out,  “Stop”  “Stop!”  He did.  He kept his cock inside me though.

He looked at me, “Is something wrong?” he asked. I thought for  a moment, every hormone in my body was happy. Then he moved himself around a little in me.  I felt close to coming, and I am quick, I come quick, but this is wrong this is Ex.s friend.  I thought.  I was going to say, “this is wrong we must never do this” but then I touched my head and said, “yeah, you are banging my head into the wood here”   He said “Oh sorry” and pulled me around to a different angle and started again.

Then, yeah, the fourth of July came into my brain again.

As close as I could get the zipper, no girls allowed.  I would love to be able to wear this dress.

Success Story? and I Changed My User Name

Yay! not my tits, someone else’s tits, what a relief for all of us.   I came across this image as I have been thinking so much about body image and whatnot.   My first thought was how awesome!  People are trying to make women who have been oversexualized have confidence and pursue their humanly dreams.   I thought, that can be an inspiration to me, and it still can but…

Then I realized, I was looking at a weight-loss blog.  This was the goal, not the up with me, but the I too can be tits and ass was the motivation and my stomach hurt and I felt that old familiar confused feeling.

It is interesting to me how much our bodies shape who we become.  You know if I was very tall I would look at the world differently, or very black, or very fat, or anything.   Because of the way I have been treated in the world I initially saw this as overcome your objectification inspiration.

Then it made me sad, to think of this picture as inspiration, for one thing the woman is  of course heavily photo-shopped, she doesn’t look like this, and honestly don’t think she looks that great.   I mean cute for sure, totally fuckable, but fake, fake,fake.

Her breasts are being clamped on for sure.  Idk, but I just thought, O.K. this blog is about weight loss, yay weight loss if you need to, but how fucked up to have not a fit woman but a headless cartoon to inspire you.  Not wanting to judge, but really?   Not a woman being healthy and fit but looking like a fuck toy.

Whatev.  So I changed my user name, the reason I changed my user name is because I am getting hits from normal people.  When I started this blog I thought I would only being dealing with people like myself, people I see as the deviants of goodness.  Porn people.  Not people who like food, not people who think, not people who have feelings.   When I started this blog I thought of myself as a stupid whore.  Not all the time but a lot of the time.    Any time I made a mistake, any time I felt ashamed.  Which was a lot of the time.  So I thought of the name, “Listen to Stupid”  my first name came from Hello Kitty, who I love, but then, Idk, just not at all me and the name is stupid, too suggestive.

Then I wanted to comment on food blogs and didn’t want to be all porno tits in your face about it.  Now it seems stupid to me that I thought that only losers would be interested in sex.  I mean I like food, I like going to the movies.  I guess it is because of the isolation my sexual issues make me feel and of course the shame.   So I made up a new blog name it is called Freedpuppy or something like that which will take you to an empty blog but so I can post on normal people’s blogs without feeling like I am being gross.  I also changed this blog name because I don’t want to be all pornoed up in some of the most kind people who have commented to me when I comment on their blog.

I picked listen to stupid because I have always been called that.  Now I am talking, and it must be weird to have an object talk.   We aren’t supposed to do that, I am breaking the rules.   It might be too negative though.  Idk, it might change, suggestions are welcome.

I have been googling this, I have been trying to figure out why the tittage makes you stupid, it blows my mind what people don’t know.  I get hits about blondes, which I have mentioned, I am, but I hate when people say things to me like, especially blonde women, “I am having a blonde moment”  I just seethe actually.  I think inside, “no fuck you” because I tried to change that.  I dyed my hair dark for 3 years.  It is not the blonde, being blonde is nothing compared to the tits.  The tits are what make you stupid.

I have a friend who is tall and brunette and slim and beautiful.   She grew-up in the mid-west and has talked to me a lot about how she was teased.  I didn’t share my own experiences because when I share mine I am “bragging”   Not too long ago I did make a comment about being teased because I was blonde, wasn’t ready to touch on body issues.   She was surprised, “Really?”

I mean blonde jokes and tit jokes kind of overlap, the stupid sex toy thing.    I couldn’t believe that she said that to me.  Really?  Really?  How many times have you heard what does the gorgeous lithe brunette do first thing in the morning?  Write her dissertation lol, lol.  No.  She said really to me?

How can people not see that?  I have a whole section of jokes just about people like me.   They aren’t nice.   Even though I called her a friend, and even though she is, I don’t have the same kind of friendships with lithe women that I can with the titted.  I just can’t.

Way More Vain Than I Thought and Fantasy

Cannot stand the last pictures of me on this blog, cannot.

This one is a bit better, not much. 



Yeah, those last two photos of me looking like shit kind of upset me, although am not sure this is much better, think it is a little bit better.


Oh and thinking life is good in the fun-sized zone, maybe for some people, but with most men, they don’t like the pressure. Anymore than I do.

Recently at a party a man was having a joking conversation with my husband and leaned in and said, “My what a pretty little girl you have got yourself there” husband put down his drink and looked at him stonily.  I awkwardly said, “thank you”

When I was in the midst of breaking up with Ex. and we were in counseling, and about our relationship, and how it was to deal with me and his peers, which were of course much older than me.   I mean he knew that going in.   I sat there and he whined, “I mean she is so young, so blonde, so curvaceous” he looked pained he was talking about the people he wanted to impress.   “It is embarrassing!

“I am embarrassed of her” 


Which is kind of like my life, you know, alone with a lover I am fine, out in the world, no.   He was embarrassed because the people he wanted to impress looked at us as a couple and thought, “fucking, fucking, fucking”   Just like people look at me and think fuck, fuck, fuck.

Just like my friend I used to lez off with, of course I lezzed off read my blog, I did it.  Got a question?  I did it, not with children but otherwise, I did it. or maybe not?   Idk.  I did a lot of things.  I mean no peeing or pooping things.  But anyway went to go see lez-off friend one time, she was living with a bf and he was drinking and drinking and he knew about our past and then he shouted at me, “Are you here to steal my girlfriend back?”  I said no.  She looked at me.

Fantasy is one thing, living it is quite another.




Not All Men Are Dogs

Not all little boys shirts work, this one looks rather sloppy, and I know not a great pic. and not editing out my house very well.    But not nearly as sloppy as I look in this womans shirt, which I know I already posted, just trying to prove my point:

Which is weird to me, neither picture is flattering but I still think the boys shirt is more flattering as I don’t have the draping and just volumes of fabric that I do in the womens shirt.   The cotton is too thin in this shirt, that makes the shirt just give and make room for your bigness.    It is still pretty comfortable for around the house.   Also, you don’t see those weird lines you get esp. in a bra with caged tittays and fabric stretching.

I never meant this blog to be so much about dogs, but I have been surprised what I have been moved to say.  I also never thought I had such darkness  inside me.   Seeing things written out, taking the time to reflect and have others respond has been very helpful.  I haven’t gotten any hatemail which I am shocked as shit at.   Which I probably just jinxed mahself.   People have been way nicer to me here than I could have ever expected.

Okay, so like I said, moved in with my ex. when I was 17 and he was 39.  He was more Jerk than Jake, in that he was very dominating, a bit rough, a lot about him.   Before I go on, he was also a big part of my life, and I loved him, not like I loved Jake, but I did.   Sex was only one part of our lives and while it was a big part, telling about the sex part doesn’t do him justice.  There was way more than the sex part, he was the reason I went to college.  He was successful in a glamorous field.  He supported me financially when God knows what would have happened to me, my family of course sucked ass.

He was a very sexual person though.  Part of it though was degrading.  You know, constant.   Like, I would be making dinner and he would come into the kitchen and say, “God you are stupid”   “You are just a stupid little girl you know that?

I would ignore him but this was pretty typical, “Tell me that you are a stupid little girl”  I would often say, “No”  “Why not, that is what you are, a stupid fucky-little thing”

It didn’t matter what way I tried to play it.   “I am not stupid” I might say.  Then he might lift up my dress and say, “Yes, you are, who told you, you could wear these panties?  Hunh, stupid?”  Then he would start pulling them down.  “Say it, say it stupid”  “I’ve got something for you”  I don’t remember him ever calling me a whore though, which is weird because stupid+whore is so together in my mind.

Chris was someone I met through ex. funny enough.  At a work related event.   Chris wasn’t in the same field, he was in medicine.  He was really smart.  I can’t remember what his title was but I could pronounce it.  He was very nice.    He lived close to us.  Ex. had to work a lot,  at odd hours.   Chris and I struck up a friendship.  Well not much of a friendship but it was easy to tell he wanted to fuck me.   He was sweet to me, he asked me about books I liked to read.

His intelligence was a huge fucking turn-on.  Smart guys, have a thing for the men with the big brains.   Weirdly, they are often stereotyped as not being very sexual.  That is not my experience.  I had to help Chris through the whole process.  He was older than me too,  I don’t know how much, but I remember running into him at a bookstore and him being awkward and me saying pretty easily.  “O.K. why don’t I come over to your house Friday night?”   He said he would like that and we could have dinner.

I had to come right after something else so brought a bag with things to change out of my jeans, which I look like shit in jeans, but had a filmy kind of dress, black with tiny pink flowers on it, that was very body conscious.   And easy to wear, it just slipped on, free flowing but huggy.   I was putting on more make-up and he opened the bathroom door.  He started to say something but stopped and said, “Oh My God, Oh My God”  in a way that was such a turn on and made me feel powerful.

Then we sat on his couch for a moment.  Talking about what we were going to do.  How to fit everything in, and I said, “Well I suppose at some point you are going to want to fuck”   His eyes bugged out of his head.  I was shocked.   “Oh I am sorry, I meant have sex”  I said.  I thought he was offended that I said the f-word.   He reassured me that me saying fuck was O.K.  I mean that is just how people talked at my house, fuck, fuck, suck, stupid, sit on, come here, got something for you, you don’t tell me no.   I was reading at Bimodal Tendencies blog about his wife not fucking him, and wow, I mean I can only remember one time with Ex. trying to say no, toward the end, thinking I was just going to leave him, and he whined like a mother-fucker, and then he yelled and then more whining and then gave in and he wouldn’t let me rest all night.  It kind of seemed like punishment for saying no.   He wasn’t a rapist, he could have so easily done that and he didn’t.

I didn’t realize that this kind of talk could be shocking to some people.  But after we got over my “so sorry I said fuck” thing, he said “Well, yes.” and I said, “Well before or after dinner?”   We did both.  After the conversation we went into his bedroom.  He put a condom on and I do feel really bad for saying this but he had the biggest cock I have ever had.  I mean it kind of turned, it went out really far and made a big curve and was thick too.  Which you wouldn’t think that from looking at him.  He actually had to wear special condoms.  I asked him if he had done something to it but he said no.   I just pulled off my dress and kicked off my shoes, there wasn’t much foreplay and then he was inside me for idk, about 2 minutes.    He came.  “Sorry” he said.  “Oh that is O.K.” I said.   “Its just that” he started to say, and I said, “No, don’t , you were awesome” and kissed him on the forehead which made sense from how we were laying.   Because from my point of view that was really awesome, I was super hungry, I had skipped lunch and so wanted to go to dinner and now didn’t have to spend all this time fucking.   I mean it didn’t even occur to me that I could say, “let’s go to dinner first”  I had been so sexualized at that point.

Then we had dinner and came back and did all kinds of fucking until I had to go home, and he grabbed my hand and said, “Don’t go” in this really sweet way that surprised me.  He was so successful, I mean really, really, really successful.  He had so much going for him, but at that moment, I could see his puppyness like my own.    It turned my head around for a second, and then I remembered who I was, what I was, where I belonged and pulled my hand away sharply.  “I have to” I said and left.

We continued fucking for like a year and then he had to move to Toronto, I have never been there.  But what I want to say about Chris, is he was so kind to me, always, even when I did really stupid things, like coke.   He introduced me to German food and culture, he was wonderful.   Chris never had an unkind thing to say to me, we weren’t really lovers in the sense of hey we are building a relationship, but he was sweet and kind, and he thought I was smart.   He made me feel so desired without being threatened.

Since starting this blog I have thought,  OMG, I lived with Jerk and cheated on him with Jakes, has my whole life been about revenge on Jerk?  Better not be, because that is a waste of a life.   Oh but no, don’t call my ex. a jerk, I mean I can, but you don’t know him.  I hope.


Things That I Think Make My Tits Look Small

Little boys t-shirts, srsly, used little boys t-shirts.  This is a S-Youth, it mashes them down a bit but feels soft and warm and like I can walk around comfortably with no bra on.

A weekend favorite.  Have yourself a good one. 🙂

Puppy and Dogs and Bones

Look at me getting all arty!

Black and white.  That was hard and didn’t come out like I would like but am def. improving on some things.

First off, I would like to thank everyone who has given me support.  I can’t say the word support without thinking about tits,  *alas*

But also would like to invite anyone to submit a guest post about their own relationship with their tits and living the life of the fun-sized, or regular sized or small,  or if you are a man, tits in general.   I won’t edit.   There must be a way to email me because I have gotten an email that was very lovely from this blog.    Maybe she will tell me how to do that.  😕  but right now I am not emailing anyone back, just still feeling really shy and doing something very risky.

Also if you want to include a picture of your own body, please, I love pictures but I understand if you don’t want to, I will find a picture to illustrate, because I kind of have to have pictures.    Also, if you want to have a pen-name, that is really okay too.  I won’t violate your privacy.   That would be really awesome if someone did submit a guest post about boobage because I am suddenly really interested in how other people deal and the deal with the tits in the first place.  Or even other body issues, am suddenly body-woman!

So today, the easy part about the tits.  Standing on a street corner, I do that a lot, and a car turning right, a man yelled at me, “Holy Shit Baby!”  he sounded cheerful and happy though and I found myself thinking, “that is my preferred method of street harassment”, which itself is fucked up, but writing that one post about the Shapes of Things and looking at other people’s bodies  made me feel more okay with it, like maybe he just likes to look at bodies?   I do.  I think his tone helped.

Before that though, earlier, I had to go to the store and on my way there felt someone mugging on me.  You know how you feel that intent attention and don’t realize why but turn your head and find someone glaring on you?  I mean looking is one thing sending rays of hate out of your eyes is another.    I turned and saw a woman much older than me, heavy, but not my new favorite kind of heavy that is just hiding the tittage, but just heavy-heavy.

Her mouth, covered in a bright red-lipstick that would have been pretty had she not been twisting it into a crooked-nasty-gash across her face, made me feel shitty.  I pulled my puffer jacket closer around me, I mean not tighter, but just in a way to say, look I am hiding  myself, you don’t have to hate on me.   I felt like shit, and hate that, hate the other women who do that.  Not all do, most don’t.

So she didn’t technically say anything, but I got her message.  I don’t deserve to be here.   I am bad, wrong, slutty.   I mean no, I was not wearing that dress, but a baggy skirt and okay sweater under a jacket.

Then walking home from the store, I saw the girl that works at my local coffee shop.  She is petite, but she has boobs, I can tell even though she goes for the look that I posted in my blue shirt post, I forget what it is called but its the one where I am proving how sloppy hiding your body makes you look.   I have a pic. of me.  So she was walking toward me smoking a cigarette, she didn’t look up from the ground.  She looked troubled.   I didn’t know she smoked.

I only know her from ordering coffee, and she is really conscientious, attentive, helpful, polite, eager to please.    I actually think she tries way too hard.  But after I started this blog she got me my perfect coffee like she always does, and I said, “You are doing a really good job”  because I was realizing how women with tits are often told they are stupid, not worthy like that happens to women with great legs or dramatic collar bones, no.  And then when you do, do something stupid it is blamed on your tits.  Like women with long sexy legs get that?  Like oh you are stupid must be because of your long-sexy legs! No.

On the way home though, because I think directly of this blog and people’s kindness to me on it, I thought first of my sister W.  I have two sisters, both younger, W.  and M.  W. is the youngest.  She is built more like me, only with a better ass.  M. is more like our mom, smaller.   Anyway, W. used to always humiliate me with her big mouth, not that we spent that much time together, after the Jake incident I was sent to live with an aunt and never moved back home again.  Being too slutty gets you kicked out of your community for sure.   But if  W. was there, and I have seen her do it, she would have yelled, srsly, yelled at the woman like she does and said, “Hating on me isn’t going to make you pretty!”  I have seen her do it, and it always made me think, man stop acting so ghetto.

But today, I thought, right fucking on!  And I felt bad that I wasn’t more supportive like an underwire.  I thought of my friend A. who is def. a bestie  who is little with the boobs and a way better attitude than me, she is loud like my sister, which I am not so loud.    A. would have said to the woman, “So sorry you seem to be having a bad day, honey!”   All sarcastic like.

And then I thought, who the fuck does that?  Who goes out and scowls at other women?  Younger women?  Life isn’t hard enough?

Whatev.   Then I wanted to hit her and hit the woman who was all “mmm ,Paris” but then my head spun around to other things, like I admitted I fucked Jerk in a comment.  Which I have never admitted before, but did all, like oh yeah, I admit this all the time.

Nope, never.

Everyone freaking out on me and Jake and meanwhile that was not bad, what was bad was me and Jerk.   Jerk who escaped the whole situation.   Fucker.  Jerk who called me Puppy, and then you know wanted to fuck me to keep him quiet, who said things like, “sloppy seconds” who was in college so I didn’t see him that much, who was rough and mean and made jokes about puppies and bones.  And you can figure it out.

Jerk was the first person to come inside of me, I mean Jake would always pull-out, Jerk didn’t care. And he throbbed, not all guys do this, but he did, he made little motions with his cock when he came.  Although the only pressure was mental and not violent, I just put up with it, and don’t blame Jake, it wasn’t a set-up, it was just the first time I felt him even though it was my first time having someone cum in me,  when I could feel it, I knew what was happening.

Even though I didn’t like Jerk, I also felt this connection, this connection to everything that was ever made.   To the stars, to the plants and trees, to life.   I mean sex is about creation right?

I think that is when things went haywire in my brain.

When I was 17 I moved in with my 39 year-old boyfriend, guess who he was more like, Jake or Jerk?  I bet you can guess.   God I am such a cliche.

Why I Need A File Cabinet


This pic. is better than the last I think, at least you sorta get the idea in this one.


One of the reasons I am uncomfortable at work is I work with this man, he is the head of my department.  He is really cute and really nice and I want to fuck his brains out.   I do.

He thinks I have the best fashion sense.   I mean I know I don’t, I am actually very not good at that kind of thing.  But no matter what I am wearing he finds it charming, a lovely color, pattern, material.   Sometimes he even touches it and tells me how much he likes my shirt.

So when I have to go into his office, I am always hiding behind a file cabinet or half humping a door, or trying to hide me behind some kind of very not sexy piece of the building.   Because I am not going to fuck him, because I don’t fuck up my life like that anymore.

But I get self-conscious that my body, no matter what my mouth is saying, is saying, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.