Wednesday, November 17, 2010

The All Natural Jersey Chaser

Honestly, there are really few things I can think of in my extensive jersey chasing repitoire that I would ever consider myself "proud of". However, being 100% myself, that's one of them, and sadly, it's a big deal.

Having actually dated a few of the athletes I’ve banged, I’ve been around the other girls who, like myself when I’m single, play around just for fun and chase the jersey for money or fame or reputation. And I swear to God, it makes me wonder how I’ve managed to pull some of the guys I’ve pulled. Sure, Im a good looking girl, tiny body, nice smile, and I’m kind of flexible, but look at the Rachel Uchitels and the hookers that dudes like Tiger Woods and Wayne Rooney and Ashley Cole pull. The women sports guys always cheat on their wives with, or randomly hook up with and you wonder "where in God's name did he find her?" They're like real life inflatable dolls. Boob implants, nose jobs, tummy tucks, fake nails, fake hair color, extensions, lip injections. There’s enough silicone in those women to raise the God damn Titanic.

And then there’s me. Me, who had a mild panic attack when I had to have two porcelain veneers put on my teeth after I chipped them in high school. I have, on a good day, (and I mean a really good day) a 32-B cup. I have never even contemplated dying my hair, and I bite my nails. My nostrils flare out when I get angry or upset, and the day I find a random ten grand lying around, it’ll be invested in a nice trip to Australia, not in a pair of tragically disproportionate looking fun bags that have to be replaced in fifteen years, anyway.

There’s something to be said in a woman who spends majority of her time around athletes, like I do, and feels no need to change anything about herself. In fact, I'm pretty fond of my body, looks, and sure I'll throw personality in there since we're being modest. You can call me a slut, or a jersey chaser, once a literary agent even told me his wife would be “horrified if he ever represented any books I might write”. But you can’t call me fake. I’ve learned how to make my boobs look big in phone pictures. Ive learned how to pose my face so my nose doesn’t look uneven. I've learned to work with everything I've got. I know the actual value of my own body, and for that, I gotta thank the athletes, because they are the guys that tend to point this stuff out to me. I get a shit ton of compliments from a lot of the guys I bang around with, and I think they're all pretty genuine, because let's be real - it's not like any of these guys need to compliment me to get me in bed. I guess after feeling a 425 CC breast so many times, an actual, soft, warm thing that wouldn’t suffocate you if you fell asleep under it, or bruise you if it hit you, is a nice change of pace. I may chase a lot of jersey, but I always plan on doing it with my own boobs, nose, hair and tummy. It just wouldn't be as fun without them.

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