On Body Issues

Hey Ragers and Ragettes!!!   It’s Monday, yes, the most suck hard day of the week.  I hate Mondays.  I really can’t stand them.  I try to get through them as best as I can usually by writing this or listening to music.

But I have to say, Ragers and Ragettes, I am in full bitch mode today so I apologise for the negative tone and bitchiness of this post.

As I haven’t been well, my body has been very tired and worn down.  And my body has decided to give me a period this month.  I don’t usually get them because of my contraception but Mother Nature every once and awhile likes to throw one in there.  Just because she can.

So most of the weekend I felt all emotions from full out rage to wanting to weep and eat cake.  Yesterday it all came to a head.

I woke up and felt bloated and fat.  I have gained some weight from the antibiotics plus from my monthly friend.  So I am already feeling not the best.  Then Simon decided that he was going to spend all day playing on his Playstation while I rush around, prepare dinner, do other bits of cooking, cleaning and finishing the laundry.  Plus my friend Rita was going to come over for a wine and a moan. 

I had my Personal Training session which I usually enjoy.   But I didn’t enjoy it.  The whole time when I was doing my weight lifting, this skinny blonde MILF like woman with fake boobs and a forehead that didn’t move was working out next to us.  She was complaining to my trainer that she hadn’t eaten bread for 3 days.

Then the words left my lips....Well my thighs touch, lady.  I said as I did a perfect rep of clean and press.  She looked at me shocked (I think she was shocked...I mean...her forehead didn’t move as I said and it could be shock??) and she nervously giggled.  My trainer gave me a look and when I finished my set she said, ok Betty over here now.  She pulled me away from the silicon Barbie like being. 

I then had to do my bench press.  I did my bench press and Barbie came over to the Squat Rack.  She had long fake talons and was struggling to get the clips off to put the weights on.  This guy who was lifting came over and said, looks like you’re struggling, let me help.  She giggled coquettishly and said something along the lines of oh thank you!  I would have never done that myself. 

How many times have I struggled in the gym?  And how many times has anyone offered to help me??????  Honestly!!  Us larger ladies get such fuck all for it!!! 

Let’s just say my sets of lifting were amazing.  I used the rage and beasted my workout.

I got in and found that Simon actually did help out.  He vacuumed the carpet and the kitchen.  I was very pleased.  I kissed his forehead and started cooking and preparing dinner.  I made a batch of spaghetti sauce, plus my lunch for today and a little post work out treat of olives, avocado and eggs.  I read the paper and then started getting ready to see Rita. 

She text me and said that she was going to be 10 minutes as her long suffering boyfriend was driving us to the pub because it was raining.  I wasn’t finished putting my make up on.

With Rita, I always feel like I have to be perfect.  She is 5 foot 8, has long brown/auburn hair, beautiful big brown eyes and a figure that most woman would die for.  She is skinny with big, massive fake tits.  And I mean very skinny.  She has a majorly big thigh gap.  But she smokes like a train, eats crap like McDonalds and other fast foods and drinks beer like a man.  And she loses weight!!!!!!!!  The bitch!!! 

Rita is going down a path that isn’t wise.  She has a boyfriend and a 3 year old son.  She is fucking around on her boyfriend with a friend of mine....I have outlined this situation before. 

Anywho, she is all wrapped up with this situation and she has developed major feelings for the other guy.  Like proper major feelings.  It’s basically a massive mess.

Rita went with me to Amsterdam and met the lads from work.  She has become very good friends with them and has been chatting with them.

I thought that we were just going to my local pub for a quiet drink.  But Rita had other ideas.  After bombarding me with her issues, she then decided to contact Keith from work.  Keith responded saying that he was at another pub in town with his mates. 

Rita’s eyes lit up like she won the lottery.  Before I knew it, we were in a cab on the way to the pub to meet Keith and his mates. 

Firstly, I had fuck all money.  Secondly, I just wanted a quiet drink, not a session.  But Rita was rambling on.  We pulled in and she gave the cabdriver a shit load of change and we entered the pub.

Sure enough, Keith was there with his friends.  His young twenty-something male friends.  Rita slinked in and found Keith.  Keith showed us his table and his friends.

Rita was in her element.  She was flirting, giggling, tossing her gorgeous mane of hair sweetly as she laughed at their jokes.  She took her coat off and to reveal a skimpy vest, her massive fake tits on display.

They asked her to play pool, she giggled and played.  I sat there drinking my wine feeling....ugly.  I mean really ugly.  I sat there talking football with one of his friends.  I tried to not feel so out of place, but I was. 

I then realised what was going on.  Rita was on the prowl for cock and I was the fat friend to distract the others while she stalks one and then attacks her prey.  When the realisation hit I held back the tears.  I went on auto pilot.  I smiled politely, made polite chit chat as Rita giggled and leaned over to take her shots at pool while her admirers gathered round and gawped at her perfect size 0 figure.

I then had enough.  I wanted to go home and sit with Simon in my pajamas and be hugged.  That’s all I wanted.   So I texted Simon (who wasn’t in a good mood) and told him that I was going to walk home.  He said that he would pick me up.

I went to leave and Rita said, Betty where are you going?  I made an excuse that I had an early start and that I needed to get home.  She said are you sure that it isn’t because of me? 

I then told a lie.  No darling, of course not.  You’re having a great time.  I just have a lot to do.

She hugged me and I left looking for Simon’s car.

I didn’t know where I was and no one was around so I burst into tears.  I have never felt so ugly, so fat, so useless.  I just wanted to go home and sit with Simon, eat the pasta I made and have a nice night in.

I found Simon (who wasn’t signing his texts off with kisses like he usually did) and I got into his car a weeping mess.  He looked at me and said what’s up.

I don’t remember what I said as it came out in an unintelligible mess.  It ended with I just want you.  I just want a cuddle.

Simon took my hand and squeezed it.

When we got in, he gave me a cuddle and said, you’re not fat or ugly.  I love you the way you are, Betty. 

I then went to the kitchen to prepare dinner.  Betty, Simon said, I’m not hungry.  No need to prepare dinner.

The Bitch Switch got flipped.  I specially prepared sauce for dinner and he doesn’t want it now?????  Oh Betty started to Rage and I mean Rage. 

I sucked it down and poured a large glass of red wine and settled down with Simon.  We snuggled and the rage dissipated.  I felt ok.

I went to bed and had a restless night.  I didn’t sleep at all and I am tired.  Very tired. 

I now sit here still feeling ugly, fat and just plain inadequate. 

Someone once said loving your body will get your further than hating it.  It is a very true statement but some days I struggle with this.  Especially since I had a major setback with Bronchitis.  It knocked me worse than I thought and add the PMS and you have a recipe for disaster. 

Today I am fuming at Rita and that skinny bitch Barbie at the gym.  I am fuming that life isn’t fair.  That pizza has millions of calories.  I am sitting here trying not to cry as I push my uneven dreadful haircut out of my face and eat a bland spinach salad.  Today I hate the Ritas of this world.  The ones that are skinny and don’t have to work at it. 

But my personal trainer yesterday said by doing what I am doing I am building my character.  When I get to my ideal weight I’ll appreciate it even more.  I’ll take care of my new body better.  And as I sit here I know that she is right.  I know that when I put on my size 10 bralet and pencil skirt set and look in the mirror, I will think, damn, I worked for this smoking hot body.  I will treat my body better by eating the right foods and eating enough of them.

So today I am going to continue working hard.  I have packed my gym clothes so I will go and try the treadmill workout that my Personal Trainer gave me.  I will attempt to enjoy my healthy chicken and spinach salad...it’s really hard....but I am trying!

Because unlike Rita, my body is a temple that I will treat with love and respect but also I will treat my emotional health with love and respect to by being uncomplicated and fabulous.

So until next time, Ragers and Ragettes, keep your head and standards high and your heels even higher!

Lots of love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxxxxx

On Surviving a Dodgy Haircut

Hey Ragers and Ragettes!!  It’s a cool and rainy day in St Helens so I am wearing my vintage polka dotted wraparound dress and my comfortable brown knee high stiletto boots.  I have out make up on today and I am feeling much better about things.  

On Thursday I went to the doctor after I had a coughing fit that lasted a half an hour and the result was a massive head ache.  I managed to get a doctor’s appointment and it turned out to be bronchitis.  So I am on a course of antibiotics and cough medicine.  I am feeling much better, not 100% yet but I will be back to normal in a few days.

With my Bronchitis I had to completely rejig my Valentine’s Day plans.  I ended up having to cancel dinner as I didn’t feel well enough to go out.  Plus a snotty nose on my gorgeous cobalt blue jumpsuit?  Bad idea!!!  It’s ok though.  The jumpsuit will get an outing in March 6^th when we all go out for drinks for work.

I was excited about Saturday not only because it was Valentine’s Day’s but because I was getting my haircut.

The one thing that I love the most, pamperingwise, is getting a haircut.   There is nothing more relaxing than getting your hair washed and being fussed over.    Plus my hairdresser is fab!! 

He’s eccentric and slightly crazy but he is seriously the best colour correctionist that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing,  He knows his products and uses only the best products for hair and scalp.  He’s a perfectionist about the colour; an appointment to get my hair done literally take 3-4 hours just to do my colour.

I was also so excited because I was being brave and going for a pixie crop haircut.  It’s a daring haircut but if it is done correctly, it can be feminine, gamine, soft and flattering.  It was also an opportunity to cut off some of my dead, over colour ends on my hair.  Let some fresh hair grow and start over.  Who knows!  I might love the pixie crop and have that be my signature style!

I sent 2 photos to my hairdresser.  One of the gorgeous Gennifer Goodwin and one of the ever glam Jennifer Lawrence.  I wanted something in between those 2 styles.   I figured as well that when I go to the gym it will be easier and quicker for me to style and get ready in the morning.  Plus when you go out at night you can really sex it up a bit by either going sleek or messy. 

So I sat down excitedly on the stylist chair and we looked at the photos and he started to chop at my hair.

I heard the buzzing of the clippers and I didn’t think anything of it.  I mean, he would have ot remove a lot of hair to get the desired look, wouldn’t he?

He did the back of my hair with such scientific precision.  I was surprised that he didn’t measure it with a ruler or a micrometer!

Once he finished cutting my hair he started the colour.  Now he mixed up a gorgeous shade of cherry red.  In the bowl it looked gorgeous!  So rich!  He put it on my hair and then I sit for about 45 minutes while it developed.  I didn’t mind.  I was quite content reading rubbish celebrity magazines.  I just loved being in the salon!

The colour finished and I was escorted to the sink to wash the colour off.   

Nothing is more relaxing than having someone massage your head as they wash your hair.  If I wasn’t in public I probably would have started to purr and possibly orgasmed!  He put deep conditioner on my hair and I had another scalp massage.  Heaven...

He put a conditioning treatment on and I sat there with my head back while it was setting.  Then it was washed off and I was escorted to another chair where my hair dresser started to cut my hair a bit more.  He started to chop at the sides.  He was making the sides go at an angle.   He was cutting fast and furiously.  I started to get nervous.

He then stopped and took out the hair dryer and started to dry my hair.  He finished and the colour....wow!!  It was stunning!!!  A beautiful red cherry shade.  Shiny and beautiful.  He looked at it and said, I’m not happy. 

I looked at him quizzically.  He said, it isn’t a clean enough red!  So he started mixing up more hair colour.  This gave me time to suss out the hair cut.  The back was how I wanted it to look.  The front and sides?  Not so much!

He caught me looking at my hair and said, don’t worry Betty, I’m not finished with the cut yet.  I breathed a sigh of relief.  Surely he wouldn’t let me leave with the cut looking like this?

He put another lot of dye on my roots and I was sitting under the big dryer for another 20 minutes as it set in.

Once the colour finished developing again, I was led to the sink to get it washed off and re shampooed, another scalp and head massage.  Fabulous!!

Once I was all shampooed and conditioned I was lead to the hair dressing chair where my hair dresser brandished a pair of scissors.  He started cutting again.  He was fast and well, before I could protest he said, finished!!

Ragers and Ragettes....I almost burst into tears.  My hair style wasn’t the cute little pixie cut that I had longed for.  No.  The only way that I could describe it is lesbian truck driver.  He cut my hair so short on my right hand side.  No cheeky fringe.  He combed my hair over to the right hand side that was a bit longer.  The back looked ok it was the front and sides.  The part that everyone notices that looked dreadful.  I was in such a state of shock that I went on auto pilot.  I heard myself saying oh it’s lovely!! 

He took his camera out and took a photo.  I bought some shampoo and paid and walked out.  When I got to my car I burst into tears.  My hair looked dreadful.

I drove home and was dreading showing Simon.  So when I came in, he was silent.  He said, it’s different.  He hugged me and I just sat there feeling ugly. 

People don’t realise it but a woman’s hair is her crowning glory.  It makes a woman what they are.  The wrong cut or colour on a woman can age her instantly.  The right cut and colour can make you look fabulous.  So when a woman gets a dodgy haircut, it saps her confidence.  Yes it grows out but in those 3-4 weeks she has to cope with feeling not right and like she’s ugly. 

That’s how I feel.  My hair has been massacred and I now have a few dilemmas:

1.        Should I wear a scarf or hat to cover this mess?

2.       Should I even leave the house?

3.       My hair dresser is a great colourist but obviously can’t do a pixie cut.  Do I go back or do I get someone to clean up his mistake?

To make matters worse, Simon is now poking fun at me and usually I will have banter back but this is a real sore point for me.  I genuinely feel violated and I have lost my quirky sense of humour about it.

So am I now looking at funky scarf styles, channelling the African Princess look.  Surely I can pull that off?

But I sit back and I realise that now I have gone through the 7 stages of grief, I have to accept that my hair cannot grow back to the way it was overnight and that for the next 3-4 weeks I am going to have to make the best of it.  So today I have parted it the other side and it looks.....not so lesbian trucker like.  I am dressing extra girlie for the next 3 weeks so that I can claw some femininity back.  I need to now decide whether or not to go back to him to get it cut again. 

I’m doing everything I can to keep positive.  Put it into perspective.  I will look back years from now and laugh at it but now I just want to hide away and cry.  Throw a funeral for my hair.  Sigh. 

But I won’t let it get me down.  I’ll wear my dodgy haircut with pride because it is character building.  I Betty Rage survived a dodgy haircut!!!  And if I can survive a dodgy hair cut, I can survive anything!!!

Until next time Ragers and Ragettes, keep your heads and standards high and your heels even higher!!

Lots of love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxxxx

On Valentine’s Day

Hey Ragers and Ragettes!!!  This winter shit is starting to piss me off.  Spring/summer, please come back, I can’t cope!!!!  Plus I have been KO’d by a bitch of a cold.  Honestly.  I am sneezing, coughing and sounding like a vital organ will be coughed up in the process.  I am getting better though.  Today I am playing it warm and cozy.  My red sparkly jumper, my flared jeans (Bell Bottoms are back in style and I, for one, love them!!!) and my cowboy boots.   I am trying to keep as positive as possible as it helps with the healing.  So I am listening to songs that make me happy. 

Well, in 3 days we will be celebrating Valentine’s Day.  Growing up, Mama Rage always gave my sister and I Valentine’s Day cards.  Also, Daddy Rage always spoiled Mama Rage.  Every year she received gifts of flowers, jewellery, tickets to the opera and ballet.  I grew up thinking that is what men did on Valentine’s Day.

I then got a rude awakening.  Daddy Rage was obviously a very loving and thoughtful man.   My ex boyfriends, not so much.

But it never stopped me from being romantic and buying my ex boyfriend’s cards and gifts.  Why?  Because I, Betty Rage, love Valentine’s Day.

I mean the story behind it is lovely.   A man healing his jailer’s daughter and sending her a letter signed, Your Valentine.  It’s romantic and fabulous!  The thought that you have a day to celebrate love and appreciation for your loved ones just appeals to me so much.

So because for the first time in a long time I am with someone that is worthy of my love and deserves to be spoiled I have lined up a day of love for my Simon.

My plan is to wake up early on Saturday, shower and out on some new lingerie that I purchased.  It’s pink and black and flimsy and frilly.  I will then bring his presents to him and breakfast in bed.  I don’t plan to just serve him breakfast, if you know what I mean....

These are the presents I am giving him:

Present Number 1:   A customized bottle of bubbly with 2 customized champagne glasses.  Simon and i have a ritual that every Saturday night we take a bath together while sipping bubbly.  Fabulous!!  The glasses are red for me and blue for Simon.

Present Number 2:  A mug with a gun as a handle.  Simon in a fit of anger at work threw the gun handled mug off his desk that he bought in America.  It isn’t the same one but it’s the best that I could do.

Present Number 3:  A pair of boxer shorts with lip prints all over them.  A jokey present, it needs to happen!!!

Present Number 4:  A tube of love heart sweets.  He loves any sweeties so this will hopefully make him happy.

Then I am off to get a much needed haircut and hair colour.  My fabulous stylist is going to give me a fabulous new hairdo and I am excited!!! 

Then I’m off home to relax and get ready for our evening meal.  We booked a table at a Turkish restaurant that is divine!!!   Plus I will be rocking a gorgeous cobalt blue jumpsuit with a new hairdo.  Fabulous!!!

Now will Simon get me something for Valentine’s Day?  Don’t know.  Do I care?  Nope!  Why?  Because I love him.  And for me to show him that I love his is more important to me than him making some grand gesture.  He’s so important to me, I want him to always know that I am here for him and that I love him.  So my silly little gestures hopefully will do the trick.

I think that sometimes with life we get bogged down with the day to day things.  Work, bills and the typical frustrations that we encounter that we forget those that we love.  We take them for granted that they will always be there.  We have a go at them for leaving the toilet seat up, not putting the cap on the toothpaste and how they arrange the dishwasher that we forget why we fell in love in the first place.

It’s kind of sad that we an actual holiday each year dedicated to our partners.  I mean, shouldn’t you show love to your man every day?  I don’t mean buy presents but buying a cheeky card here and there and the odd little gift now and then isn’t too much to ask? 

I used to work with a girl who’s boyfriend used to send her flowers throughout the year just because.  And every girl in the office would go green with envy and say, what did he do?  Did you have a fight?  The girl would just say, my man just loves me. 

I plan this year to at least once a month get a little gift for Simon as a show of appreciation for his patience, love and acceptance of me.  Yes, he wrecks my head sometimes.  When he sings on the top of his voice, I want to punch him in the throat.  Sometimes at work we tear lumps out of each other. And his snoring at night made me consider bludgeoning his skull in but then I remembered that I wouldn’t look good in prison regulation orange...

But besides all those little things, Simon loves me.  And I love him.  We have our hard times but we have our good times too.  There is a future there and I want to be with him.   And I am hoping that this Valentine’s Day will show him how much I love him.

So Ragers and Ragettes, this Valentine’s Day, please take this opportunity to show your significant other how much you love them.  And remember Valentine’s Day shouldn’t be once a year!

Until next time, keep your head and standards high and your heels even higher!

Lots of Love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxxxx

On How Not to Treat a Man

Hey Ragers and Ragettes!!!  It’s a cool Wednesday and I am coming down with a bug I think.  Cotton wool head?  Check.  Sore throat?  Check.  A cough that sounds like I am going to bring up a vital organ?  Check.  Simon’s treatment for this bug?  Honking my tits.  Nice.  So I am rocking my boot cut jeans, a white blouse, my black peplum jacket and my black stilettos.

As you all know, I went to Amsterdam.  It was a lovely trip (no shopping done but I made up for it by purchasing a gorgeous vintage dress o line which was delivered yesterday.  It is gorgeous!!!!).  I love Amsterdam, honestly, Ragers and Ragettes, go and visit it.  It’s worth it!!!

During this trip, I saw Simon’s true self.  It was lovely.  He was so attentive, loving, caring.  He kept his arm around me as we walked around; he adventurously made love me in our room even though there were 7 people in the living room of the apartment we stayed in.  He was considerate and so sweet.  Sigh.  I think, if it is possible, that I fell in love with him even more.

I did partake in the old pot smoking, I must admit.  On the Saturday I found myself in a lovely high cloud and I ended up messaging Suzanne telling her how much I love her (Come on, it’s Suzanne.  How can you not love her????) . Good times!

But I learned a valuable lesson. 

9 people went on this trip:  Me, Simon, Keith, Errol, Errol’s girlfriend Belinda, Paddy, Rita, Paddy’s brother Hugo and Billy (our other worker).

It was Belinda and Billy’s first time out of the country and they were both excited.  But that is where the similarities ended.

Errol is the loveliest guy that you will ever meet.  He is sweet, kind, thoughtful, softly spoken, but he doesn’t have a lot of confidence.  Errol’s girlfriend, Belinda, we all found out is...well...a total brat.

Belinda comes in on Monday and Tuesday and helps out.  She has had a terrible life and she currently lives with Errol.  How she came to live with Errol is....ermmm...interesting.  Basically one night she came over and stayed the night with Errol and never went home.  She doesn’t work.  She got pregnant when she was 15 and the baby was taken away from her.  We are not clear if the baby has been adopted or if it is in care as she does go and see the child at a contact centre.  (She talks about the “adoptive parents”) She isn’t intelligent as I asked her to do some filing under the supplier name but she filed everything under the name of our company. 

We never really spent much time with her but over the weekend we saw her true colours and let’s just say that they are not very pretty.

It all started out on the Friday afternoon before we left for Amsterdam.  Errol was going to pick her up to help finish with the work in the warehouse so we could get out quickly.  A half an hour passed.  Then an hour.  Errol texted Billy to say that Belinda said that she ran out of the contraceptive pill and needed to go to the doctor to get it again, even though she said that she had everything sorted.  So she demanded that Errol drive her to the doctor, then the chemist to get the prescription filled.   Surely she had a repeat prescription?  She didn’t work or do anything on Wednesday or Thursday?  Why did she leave it so late?

Then when we got to Amsterdam and after having a few smokes out in town we got back to the apartment.  She started to demand that Errol go out in the middle of the night and bring her food.  She said she wouldn’t go because she was in her onesie (which was really white trashy looking).   She then started to smoke other people’s pot and cigarettes without asking if it was ok.

The next morning, Rita, me, Paddy and Simon went out for breakfast.  When we came back, we found that Belinda tore the kitchen apart trying to find food and found a bag of boil in the bag rice.  She then decided to open the bag of boil in the bag rice and put hot water from the kettle over it to cook it.   Smart.

When we put our bags of shopping down, she grabbed my shopping bag and went through it grabbing a bag of Doritos I bought.  She didn’t ask; she just grabbed. 

We decided to walk to the red light district and the whole time she complained to Errol.  It’s too long.  I don’t want to walk.  This is stupid.  Fucking hell.  Are you a 5 year old?  You are in one of the most beautiful cities in the whole world and you are bitching and moaning.

She didn’t pay for a single thing when we were there.  Errol paid for it all.  She didn’t have a nice thing to say, she bitched and whined and threw strops when she didn’t get her way.

On the Sunday, she demanded that Errol to go out and buy her pasta (who eats pasta at 10am?  I’m half Italian and I don’t even demand that!!!) and then she whined because we didn’t want to go to Madame Tussauds.  We decided to split up as I think the rest of us were irritated by her. 

Now Ragers and Ragettes, I know that men get a lot of shit.  Us women always talk about how men have done us wrong.  And how they are bastards.  But there are some really decent and good men, like Errol. 

What Belinda is doing is being a total douche.  I know that she had some bad experiences in the past and she is probably thinking I will never been hurt again but by hen pecking, bitching, whinging and being a total brat will push a good man (or any man) away.

On Monday, Errol said that if she doesn’t get a proper job she will be going back to live with her mum as he cannot afford to support her anymore.  My heart goes out to him.  He is dating a total bitch.

Yes, us women should be treated as goddesses but in turn we must treat our partners with love, dignity and respect.  You get back what you put out.  And acting like a trailer trash bitch will get you nowhere.  Trust me.

This experience has made me a better girlfriend, I think.  I would dread to think that I was demanding and such a bitch to Simon. 

We are thinking of setting up a “Free Errol” Campaign.  We joke about it, but in all honesty what kind of girl would behave like that?

I’ll tell you.  That sort of girl, has little confidence, has most likely been hurt before.  She wouldn’t cheat because she knows that she has it so good but would flaunt herself to show the man that she is all that and that she can have any man she wants.  She is the sort of girl who would religiously check her man’s phone, who would want to be with her man 24/7 and if anyone jokes with her man, she butts in and has her say. 

That is Belinda to a T. 

So we are in a bit of a bind.  We all like to socialize but now that Belinda has come out with us and gone away with us, is she part of the group.  So we usually go out for a few beers on the first Friday of every month but we are reluctant to do this now because she will come along.

So what do we do?

Sigh.  I’m knackered so I am going to pretend to be awake at work and take another Lem-Sip.  I hope that gets rid of this bug.  Or I might try Simon’s boob honking technique....hmmmmm.....

Until next time, Ragers and Ragettes.  Keep your head and standards high and your heels even higher!

Lots of Love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxx