TO MY KNEES....

Genetics. Sometimes it works in your favor. Sometimes it does not.

My legs: A positive result of strong genes and good gams on both sides.

My nose: A fluke.

My boobs: Well. My boobs....

When I started this blog, (and it had a different name), I shared the story about how at an early age, I saw my Great Grandmother getting dressed and putting on a bra (a "brassiere" she called it) over some sort of medieval looking Spanx getup (It was the late 70's... which meant her undergarments were from the late '50's). Long story short, I remember watching her with wonderment-- How is it possible for boobs to fall that low? Were they ALWAYS like that? Will she trip over them?

30 years later, I've figured out the answers to those questions, and frankly, I'm not so happy about the "knowing" part. Lacking in size, my boobs are not. But lacking in all things Sophia Vergara, they most certainly are. Though my boobs have never been a deterrent on the boy front (in fact, I was felt up 2 years before I even had my first kiss), it's an area that I've always been self conscious of....

Oh, and breastfeeding a baby who wiggled and squirmed like an Octopus getting electrocuted, did not help.

Anyway, this is all coming up because of a lovely little exchange I had with my 3 year old this morning. Amidst a lovely lego fort building session, Jonah leaned in to give me a hug.

J: "Mommy, why are your boobies so weeeeird."

Me: "Huh?! My boobies are weird?!"

J: "Yeah. They're just ... (wiggling his body), so WOBBLY and like... (He lays back with his mouth gaped open like a corpse)... THAT."

Before I let my mind start racing with all the things that "That" could mean, I nod, say "thank you" for his observation, and knock over his fucking fort. NO. I'm kidding. He knocked it over. And that was that.

What I'm getting at here, is that I was obviously NOT NAKED during our little boobie extravaganza, so a) why did he think about this and b) are my boobs, covered by pajamas, seriously that "weird???"

Have your kids ever commented on your body? How do you respond?

START SPREADING THE NEWS....

Last Friday I turned Thirty... Three. Considering there are so many shifts and changes in my world, including a show/job that has taken me to New York this week, my birthday was really wonderful, sweet, and happy....

It's hard to believe that 15 years ago, I moved to this city in the hopes of becoming an "act-toorrr." I wanted to do "theee-Ate-er," wear black, smoke cigarettes, and "act from my soulllll...." Okay, I wasn't that affected, but I did smoke cigarettes... a habit I picked up after my freshman RA at NYU introduced us to the Silver Bullet Deli that would happily deliver cigarettes and a bottle of water at any time of the day...

Overnight, I found my bearings, my bars, and my ballsy side...

I was a New Yorker.

As a child growing up in Los Angeles, I'm sure it seemed odd to my parents that I would adopt an imaginary friend named Bodice and her "cousin" Beem-Beem. I don't think anyone would have suspected that come college time, I would follow my "friends" to the big apple... After all, just because Bodice moved to New York to be an actress (and "Beem Beem went with her") didn't necessarily mean I should too... But I did. I was going to go to NYU's Tisch School of the Arts to become the world's most famous actress and do interviews with Barbara Walters (in a British accent... don't ask) and talk about my life, my loves, and the many many children I had adopted and saved....

Well, 11 years post graduation, I'm hardly famous and my accent is hardly British (think Eliza Doolittle meets Sarah Palin). I would have never guessed, standing on the stage of Carnegie Music Hall, receiving my diploma, that I would one day give up acting, move back to Los Angeles, find myself working in a field known as "reality television," fall in love with writing (and become a "blogger")... and I certainly wouldn't have imagined my heart could get completely stolen by a 25 pound little man who's smile is so contagious and tush is

so delicious I would actually consider (and have tried) eating it.

But here I am.... On the 30th floor of an office building overlooking a city (well not so much overlooking... more like wedged in)... in a city that I once swore I'd neeeever EVER leave... down the block from theaters I dreamt of performing in... NOW I'm behind a desk and behind the cameras...

And while my dreams of bantering with Ba-Ba-Wa may never come to fruition (unless I'm producing the famous actress who has actually adopted many children and saved many lives), it feels good to be back here... I'm a real "Working Girl...." with a real head for business and a bod for sin (if I can manage to stay awake)....

But alas, I must sign off. Get back to work and to this show... I've got a deadline.

"Katherine's" on my ass. Let the river ruuuuuunnn......