I have never been super obsessed over a particular music group or band.

However I have a very passionate spot for insanely talented, truly smart and oh so quirky artists. Lady Gaga? Love you. Hard. I may not let my kid watch your videos or listen to your music (hell, I barely do), but we have long discussions about how kind and genuine you are in interviews and at one time you felt awkward, out of place and freakish.  Look at you now.

Marshall Mathers, Eminem. You tortured, talented (and recovering) soul. I have a very soft spot for you. I know all the awful things that are said about you. I’m well aware of the awful things you sing about. But YOU. You. I’m convinced I could have been the girl to soften you, the one to change you. The one that every other girl would hate forever because I GOT YOU. Don’t worry, I’ve polled almost every girl I know, we all have the same soft spot for you. Most of them just won’t admit it.

Bruno Mars. I wanted to hate you. I DID HATE YOU. That baby face…goofy smile. “I’d catch a grenade for CHA?” “Put my hand on a blade for CHA?” For you. FOR YOU. Diction Mars. DICTION. But somewhere after all the CHA you won me over. I have no idea how it happened. And now you have a duet with my secret dirty? Fine. You win. I give up.

Jared Leto? You’re so strange, but…yum.

And last. Richard Marx. You are…wonderful. Timeless. You’ve aged well. You sing a love song like Ryan Gosling does a love scene. Right Here Waiting? I used to make out with Tom Cruise my pillow to that song. Whenever you come on the radio? I have a moment. There’s something about you. I love you. That is all.

Any dirty musical love affairs you’d like to admit to?

I am a neti expert.

A neti lover.

So when I received a battery operated neti pot from BlogHer?

I waited for the perfect sinus issue to test it out.

That issue came last night, as did the test.

Final answer?

Give this to an amateur and they’re gonna drown.

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(This entire video was recorded, edited, uploaded and posted from my Motorola Xoom with the built in Movie Studio App. Even cooler? I did it all with one hand while the baby snoozed in my other arm.)

((Also, pardon the, um, layout issues I’m having. Consider it an workout for your brain. Sorry about that. Working on it!!)

I am mad at my breasts.

Not a funny “HAHA!” mad, but legitimately angered by their existence.

I used to enjoy them. They stayed up where they were supposed to, they balanced out my bottom half and they filled out dresses and t-shirts with ease.

I was measured again and guess what? I’m still (STILL!) a 34F. EFFFFFF.

That’s a big bra full of two big failures.

It’s as if they stayed the same size hoping it would mask the fact that they simply did not work.

If the loss of a breastfeeding relationship needs to be mourned I have reason to believe that I have reached the valley between anger and loneliness.

I’ve been unhappy with particular body parts in the past. My nose is a bit too big, my thighs a bit too meaty, my stomach a bit too soft, my skin a bit too pale. But none of these ever affected anything but my own selfish vanity. My nose sniffs, my thighs get me from point A to point B, my stomach carried my two babies and my skin, well. My skin keeps my guts in.

But my boobs, they failed my baby.

And it makes me really, really angry.

All they ever had to do in this life was feed a baby. Nothing else. (Although they did get my husband to notice me eleven years ago, even though he’ll deny it and claim it was my sparkling personality that caught his attention.)

They didn’t do their job.

They just sit here on my chest like two giant fleshy mistakes staring back at me everyday.

“YOU KNOW YOU GUYS FAILED RIGHT?” I want to scream at them. “YOU DON’T DESERVE GOOD BRAS AND SOFT FABRICS!”

It’s a really weird feeling. To feel utter disappointment and regret in a physical part of yourself. Like a bad tattoo you can’t undo. They will always be there reminding me of their failure. I’m not the one that failed…it was them, and yet they’re attached to me.

Other people may never understand the shame and anxiety these things cause me. But for now? It’s all I can feel when I look at them.

Anybody else?