Runaway Cream

I was teaching a spinning class at a club in Dallas, Texas. This was a regular group, mostly women, who I cycled with weekly. At the time, I was married with no kids, teaching classes and training instructors for a living. I was fit as a fiddle. In teenage speak, I was jacked.

Indoor cycling is one of my favorite workouts because I sweat like a machine. My workout apparel was a sporty bra top with leggings, which I wore confidently.

We were sweating.

A lot.

One of the ladies asked me what was on my stomach.

What??? I looked down expecting to see a loose thread or something. Oh my God, no no nooooooooo!

Earlier that morning, I had applied some breast cream that a friend had given me. My friend shops at Neiman Marcus and other stores I would only drive by, never go in. She said this was the best cream in the world and that I should use it everyday, morning and night. It would give me silky soft skin right there.

Sign me up.

The cream came in a sample packet where you tear off the top corner and squeeze the product into your hand. The package indicated eight uses. I portioned 1/8 of the packet into my palm, rubbed my hands together, and spread it all over my chest. I wondered it if would do anything different than my Vaseline cocoa butter lotion from Target.

Well, if this is some kind of magical cream, more is better, right? Softer breasts would be divine. And romantic. I’d been married for a handful of years so I still wanted to impress.

I emptied the rest of the packet into my palms and rubbed it in. It took awhile, because there was so much. I rationalized: Skin is a sponge, so, more is better.

A sponge can only hold so much fluid, and then it overflows when full, or is squeezed under pressure. The breast cream was pouring down my stomach like a shower.

Oh my God. Rescue me.

I had to explain. Ugh.

I apologized to Gary, a married father of three, that I was going to talk about breasts. He didn’t seem to mind.
I told the group about my friend, the expensive Neiman Marcus breast cream, more is better… and there we were. A breast cream show on my stomach in my spinning class. Gary, who maintained a staring contest with the floor, was smiling, and piped up with, “Breasts feel good no matter what.”

So, I figure that unless your breasts are covered with slugs or sprouting venus fly traps, any body lotion will work. Gary said as much.