Whew.

My first run in with the bard and I lived to tell the tale. I did not even stink up the place. I could tell from the faces of the audience that they were enjoying themselves and actually understanding the words that were being pulled from my ass to my mouth (I did the centipede version of Shakespeare).

However, I was driving home when I realized that my right boob had escaped my sports bra and was hanging low.

Fuck.

Now it wasn’t like it was swinging in the breeze; it was under a black turtleneck and during the show I wore different vests which would cover the offending mammary.

But still.

Ah, the joys of live theater.

Do your boobs hang low? Do they wobble to and fro …