HampoLand

Giant Shiny Bras at Walmart…more signs of obiesity in America

to be clear, this girl is not fat but the bra is pretty

   I’m going to lay it right out here, breasts in America are getting bigger. And I feel fairly certain it’s because we are all getting fatter. Breasts are made of fat, so when a woman gains ten pounds her boobs get bigger. Any woman will validate this fact.

But here’s more evidence of swelling boobage. I went shopping a couple of days ago and found myself surround by rows and rows of giant bras. I’m talking about massive bras with cups bigger than my son’s head.

I have pretty big boobs and have worn a 36 or 38 D for most of my life. When I was a teenager they were considered gigantic, freakish, worthy of lengthy conversatons. Today that’s not the case, because so many women have boobs much much bigger and they lt them hang out there…all the time. Twenty years ago finding a bra that size was really hard and they were all ugly granny bras. As a teenager I was sure all the bigger bras had been designed by structural engineers and Baptist ministers. They might as well have been cut from burlap. And the strap across the back was at least three inches, there’s no way that looked sexy.It was terrible.

Additionally, (as though buying a really hideous looking big bra when you are 15 isn’t bad enough), most stores in the 70′s 80′s put the big bras on the lowest rack. So we had to search for our big ugly bras on our knees. Its no wonder I never wanted to go shopping.

Now, stores are filled with hundreds of glorious looking giant bras, shiny and sparkly and hot looking, even if you have boobies the size of basket balls. And lots of bras big enough to hold three puppies are even kept at eye level because big boobs are the norm.

What does all this mean? Well, I’m really worried about the obesity rate in America , but I know there are a lot of “breast Men” in the world who love the new big ta-ta norm. So, at least for those guys the future is looking magnificent.

****If you want to read more about men and their evolutionary feelings about breasts this is a pretty interesting site.http://www.breastoptions.com/bigbreasts.html

#This is a re-written reprint because I went shopping again today and the bras were bigger and even prettier. Lucky me

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Dead Guys Can’t Kick

Two weeks ago I was sparing at a black belt camp in Louisiana and was kicked by a very handsome 6th degree. When I tried to get up my right knee laughed at me and said, “put your butt back down, woman.” I couldn’t walk.

Getting hurt at this kind of cam is rotten because I had to miss the following 48 hours of training and I had to lie around in a fairly primitive room, no tv, no Internet connection, no telephone for the next day and a half. just me, my goofy brain and a bag of ice.

When I got home two things became apparent.

 1.My knee wasnt’ getting any better.
2. It’s impossible to look hot wearing  a big ugly knee brace doing the zombie walk. (I’m waiting for the What Not To Wear people to jump out of my closet)

My orthopedic made an ugly face and sent me for an MRI.
Yuck! For twenty minutes I had to lie in a big shaking, quivering, humming and banging machine. I’m sure an MRI costs millions and millions of dollars, so why is it so noisey and aggressive? They gave me head phones with music but the MRI was so loud I couldn’t hear.

As I left, the MRI lady took my $300 dollars (and I have big insurance) and told me to help myself to a bowl of pens and emory boards. I looked at her with  “an emory board, seriously?” kind of expression. But she didn’t get it. Why does an MRI place give away emory boards.

The next day I hobbled into the doctor’s. office. I smiled. “Ok, give me some good news, it’s stretched, strained, twisted?”
He smiled right back, “ACL and Mencius are both torn.”
I was crushed and kind of wanted to cry, but I didn’t. (I waited till I got to the parking lot)  I handed him a list I’d made earlier. “Diana’s summer Fun List”

Chasing and annoying kids, taekwondo, tennis, running, rock climbing, swimming, skiing, hiking, water parks.  “Can I do any of this stuff?”

He read the list then shook his head. “Well, you can still annoy your kids just not chase them.”

“Surgery?” I asked.

“Well, at your age you need to really think about that.”

Did he say “‘at your age?” Oh my lord talk about adding insult to injury, like I’m Granny Maw Maw. Didn’t he read my list? Those are the worst three words any man can say to a woman…every. What a dummy. I feel sorry for his wife.

 I really- really wanted to cry, or kick his ass, which would be tough with one leg. “I want to fix it. Soon, today.”

He shrugged, “Ok, I understand. It’s an outpatient surgery but the recovery will be a few months, 4-6.”

“Let’s go, the sooner the better.”

“We’ll have to do a  graft.”

“Excellent, from somebody else?  Can I have  a 24 year old Asian girl graft?”

He just stared at me so I tried to explain. “If I get a young Asian graft maybe I’ll kick better and who knows my math might improve.”

Fine, I’m a reverse racist. I want the qualities middle age white women just don’t posses. He wouldn’t laugh, but I thought I was pretty funny.

“It will be a cadaver graft,” he state flatly.

“A dead guy? I get dead guy parts?  That’s not gonna help my kicking.”

He shrugged and smiled, obviously thinking I was marginally insane. Then his nurse came in to schedule the surgery.

So, I’m out of the game for 4-6 months. It sucks. Sometimes I  whine but the Martial Arts world is filled with guys who have had the same surgery or accident and injuries far more hideous. Maybe tearing my ACL it’s like my innationa into a super duper special fraternity of steler kickers. Who knows, maybe my cadaver could kick through the roof…maybe I’ll get a little piece of Bruce Lee.  

Then…in six month…it’s on, baby!

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How To Train Your Child Just Like a Dog

I have been blessed with some extraordinary children. Four of them. As a result, people are always asking me what I did, or how I rasied them. (I swear I’m not really bragging,  just stating the facts.)

A few weeks ago a buddy of mine, who is a brilliant female boxer, asked me about her little girl,  a beautiful, smart wild-child four year old.

I gave Kim the details on  method for training little kids just like dogs. My kids have have great manners,they say please and thank you All The Time, because I trained them to respond to  hand signals, just like a German Shepard .

If we are checking out of Wal-Mart and I want Sandor to say “thank you” to the cashier I catch his attention and touch my nose with one finger. That means “say thank you.”  If I touch my chin that mean “say please” and if I cross my arms and make an X he knows I’m saying “no whinning”.

I do not remember how or when I came up with this system but I can tell you why it works.

When I touch my nose and Sandor suddenly says “Thank you” to the cute girl/cashier at Dairy Queen, she smiles at him says, “your welcome and boy do you have nice manners!”  little kids love being complimented, they love attention, so she re-enforces my lesson. He’s proud and happy becasue the cute girl is impressed.

Little kids are pretty smart animals. They figure out they are often times rewarded for having good manners.  When Lexie was little bitty, the lady who owned our grocery store gave her a piece of candy everytime she said thank you or please.  It’s a win win situation. And because I never verbally remind the kids to say please or thank you adults are completely blown away.

Pretty soon it’s just a habit, that makes everyone happy.

So, my friend Kim was so happy to report today that she and her daughter have  mastered the hand signals. And it’s working out perfectly. The truth is her daughter loves her and loves making her happy and this is just another fun way to get the job done. Hand signals are silly so  the “good manners” program is fun instead of lame and boring. And parents don’t have to repeat themselves hundreds of times or say the ubiquitious, “what do you say now James?”

Now, if I could just teach my dog to stop sleeping in the dirty clothes pile.

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A 20 Year Old Black Man From Africa Is Now Part Of My Family…Hello Uche Hampo

Recently, I became “facebook friends” with a young man named Uche Hampo. Obviously, we found each other because we share the Hampo name. But Uche lives in Africa, Nigeria to be exact.

Two or three times a week we chat back and forth, generally asking lots of questions. I love looking at his pictures because some have ox and carts and huts, while others were obviously taken in a more urban environment. Some of the women in his photographs have on white burkas (I think that’s what they are) while others are dressed in a way we would consider normal.

Uche is extremely polite and respectful he’s also smart.  He teaches math but wants to be an entrepreneur. He has plenty of time.

Recently, Uche told me he was part of the Igbo Tribe. That made me so happy. He told me his tribe was known to be industrious and hardworking. then he asked what tribe I was part of. Humm, The Ouachita tribe? Razorback or  Hampoland Tribe maybe. Perhaps he will teach me his native language.

 Recentlyhe asked if my” home was at peace”. That one threw me off. Because I was in the office I squawked at Jere Matthews, who’s office is next to mine. Laughing, I explained Uche’s question. It seemed funny and bewildering to us. Of course Arkansas is at peace.

Sure, yesterday a lady bumped into my cart at Wal-Mart and I got mad and I flipped a tweak er looking guy off earlier in the day because he ran a stop sign.  But Arkansas is a peaceful place. I’m rarely afraid, of anything, because there is peace.

So I answered Uche’s question honestly, but I was a little flippant in my heart. “We are blessed with peace. Arkansas almost  never experiences violence from terrorist or because of war.”

Just two hours latter I was listening to NPR and there was a  report. Extremist in Nigeria blew up three police stations and killed dozens of civilians.  Holy Cow, there was horrible and unimaginable violence in Uche’s country. No wonder he asked about peace in Arkansas.1256550000 people in all of Africa, but you also have to take into …

There are roughly 125, 6550000 people in Africa as of 2010.  There are 308745538 in America. Every day Uche and I have completely different lives in huge different countries. Still we found each other, we are friends and we have plenty to talk about and we have the same last name.. What are the chance?

After hearing about the bombings in Nigeria I was suddenly worried about my facebook friend, thousands of miles away. And I was overwhelmed with gratitude.  Thank you Lord for letting me live in a country where I feel safe, where my children are safe…every day.

I have a friend who is not so blessed.  So for those you who want to bash our president, those running for president, our congress and senate and house, knock yourself out (though I disagree with most of you because you’re not very smart) It’s your right as an American.

But for those of you who bash my country. Shut the Hell up! You are blessed, fortunate and privileged because of our president, congress, senate and house. If you don’t understand this, you need to find your passport and pack your bags.

You are blessed, even if you are too stupid to realize it.

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Boyfriends With Tattoos

My best friend has a daughter. Her daughter, Sara, who is 18, beautiful, brilliant, in college and she has a new boy friend.

Last night I went to the house to meet this new fellow. I’ll call him Stu.

Well, there he was, very tall and stick like, with long black hair. He was wearing a pair of ragged dirty cut off jeans and a tee-shirt. Stu also  had a very handsome face and a whole lot of tattoos. And when I say a “whole lot” you need to trust my estimation. My son has eight or ten or twelve  and Stu had him beat. There was a massive word written in old English on his chest and then flurries of ink here and there. (However he did not have any on his neck or face).

My first impression wasn’t terrible.  But I was thinking, “Sara, you are so beautiful and smart. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Stu was kind of a handsome, grungy mess. But as we stood in the driveway, he slithered under my friends van and started removing her spare tire. I was stunned. First: He looked as though he knew what he was doing with the tools and spare and this is sometimes unusual for kids these days. Next: He was being really helpful though he and the girl had only been dating for a week or so. And he was actually helping the mom, rather than texting or playing video games. I was impressed.

Then we all went into the house and Stu did not disappear. After washing his hands, he hung out in the kitchen with the adults and talked. Stu with all his tattoes, was growing on me.

Truthfully, I was waiting for him to say something horribe or shocking, I figured he would drop the F bomb or say he respected Charles Manson or tell us all the things wrong with the United States.  He didn’t do any of that. He just flipped his long hair back and was pleasant. THEN, as we all left the house… Stu did the unthinkable, he held the door open for me.  Was it possible this hipster hobo fellow was actually a gentleman?

Needless to say I am a confirmed “Stu Fan”. But I am kind of sad because as a parent I’m so easily impressed.  Thirty years ago a boy who changed a tire, held the door open for a lady and talked to adults rather than playing WOW wasn’t unusual. Now, we are stunned and delighted by the simplist acts of civility.

Still, I’m so happy for my friend because, as any mom with a daughter will tell you. A good boyfriend is hard to find.

I have one additional note. Today, as I was leaving Wal-Mart I recognized a man I’ve  for years. He’s a very popular tattoo artist. I was walking in front of him then we started to chat. “Hey,” he said, “Just to give you the heads up, the slit in your skirt is probably a little more than you want.”

I reached behind to feel my skirt. Holy Cow, the slit was supposed to be three inches but it had torn so anybody walking behind me could easily see my pink and white stripped panties. I was horrified but laughed. “That’s not good, thanks so much for telling me.”

He shrugged, “Actually it was good, but I thought you should know.” So, the 40 year old tattoo guy flirted with me and saved the day. Not bad.

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You’re Going To Marry Her? Really?

Should you marry her? I don’t know, but here are some rules and thoughts about marriage you might want to consider.

1. Don’t marry a person if you don’t have fun in Wal-Mart together. Seriously, if he doesn’t think it’s funny when you put on stupid slippers or juggle three artichokes, if you get bored when he’s looking at drills and camo underwear, if you don’t laugh at the same people, like the guy with five boxes of Fruit Loops, don’t get married. Married life is made up of Wal-Mart moments, if you don’t have fun in Wal-Mart…don’t get married.

2. Don’t marry him person if you are already sitting in restaurants together poking at your mashed potatoes in silence. You don’t want to be that couple. If you can’t find anything to talk about now, it’s going to be a long silent marriage.

3. Finally, don’t marry them if you don’t have the same philosophy on child discipline. Almost everything can be negotiated, religion, politics, even television differences can be worked out. But it’s very hard to compromise when it comes to the kids. If she believes in spanking and you think it’s stupid and ineffective, don’t get married. If he thinks letting kids watch R rated slasher movies is cool and you’re a PG kind of person… don’t do it.

5. If everyone in your family and all your friends don’t like your soul mate, you need to slow down. Maybe he’s a creeper and you just can’t see it.  If the people who love you want to protect you from your bride to be, listen to them. I say that knowing full well you won’t but I had to say it anyway.

And always remember,If love makes you cry, if it makes you miserable, if it doesn’t make you feel like a better and stronger person…don’t marry them. In short, if love hurts you’re doing it wrong. And if you don’t have fun in Wal-Mart don’t say “I do”.

This is a re-written version of a story from 2010. I thought it was worth repeating.

Let me know what you think. Comment or hampoland@gmail.com

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Stupid Adults

Dear Adults,        Sometimes you are so stupid I want to hit you in the face with a coffee mug. How can you be so self absorbed and blind?

Lexie has a fifteen year old friend who is very dear to our entire family. She has been part of our world and Lexie’s best friend since 3rd grade. Sadly, Julie is surrounded by adults with enormous problems. Problems with the law, problems with relationships and marriage, and as a result psychological problems. And these adults talk talk talk all the damn time about their problems and unfortunate circumstances.

Julie, is very mature for her age (she’s had to grow up fast) . She listens and counsels and absorbs all their heavy, dank garbage. She worries and frets because she’s totally submerged in all these issues all the time.

 It’s summertime so she doesn’t even get a break during the day. She’s at home with the stupid adults and their problems.

The adults in her life have problems of their own making, they screwed up. And now Julie is swimming in the problem pool with them, 24/7. As a result she’s become depressed…very very depressed.

THE PROBLEMS ARE NOT JULIES! BUT THEY HAVE EATTEN HER LIFE UP BECAUSE HER ADULTS DON’T KNOW WHEN OR HOW TO SHUT UP!

Just because a kid is mature does not mean adults should tell them all the details of their stupid freakin’ issues and woes. Do not tell them all about your marriage problems. Do not tell them all about your relationship problems. Do not tell them all about your court case and legal issues and if you feel suicidal…don’t lean on a teenager! That’s not fair or right.

Julie should be thinking about cute boys, shoes, her tan line, school, her future, her phone, movies and friends. But she’s not. She’s worrying about the adults in her life because they talk AT her 24 hours a day, they blow up her phone, they text and they talk and talk and talk. She’s sitting in a vat of “other people’s problems” and she’s too kind and caring to tell everybody to shut the hell up.

I have never been more worried about a child in my life.

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