Sarcastro: Boob Freckle Photographer

So, I went over to Sarcastro’s so that he could take a picture of my boob freckle for the winner of his contest.  It was obvious that Sarcastro has an innate talent for pissing folks off, but holy shit!  He’s also got mad boob freckle photographing skills.

I changed into a button down shirt, sat myself in his kitchen chair, followed his boob arranging directions–"Push them together more!"–and he leaned in and took it.

I really, really like how it turned out.  It’s a little trashy, kind of hot, and the boob freckle is faint but visible.  I have to tell you, I don’t really think of myself as particularly sexy, by any stretch, but I look at that photo and think, "Yeah, that’s a girl to look at."

It’s kind of strange, to see myself that way, but it really delights me.

Thanks, Sarcastro!

Anyway, if it doesn’t end up on the internet some other way, I may post it.  Is that tacky?  Okay, so I’m tacky.

28 thoughts on “Sarcastro: Boob Freckle Photographer

  1. Okay, I found the words.Upon the [Freckle] of [Aunt B’s] Breast by Robert Herrick/LeeHave ye beheld (with much delight)A red rose peeping through a white?Or else a cherry (double graced)Within a lily? Centre placed?Or ever marked the pretty beamA strawberry shows half drowned in cream?Or seen rich rubies blushing throughA pure smooth pearl, and orient too?So like to this, nay all the rest,Is each neat [freckle] of her breast.

  2. Yowza. Can’t say I could see the freckle, but I could see lots of darn fine other, umm… real estate.Go B!

  3. Or how about this one, which combines a poetic wax on the lovely bosom of our host with praise for the qualities we prize even more?Oh ! give me a breast that is fair as the snows, Yet warm as the sun-beam that melts them again ; And while it possesses the sweets of the rose, As pure as the dew on its leaves may remain. Oh ! give me the maid with a heart that can feel, Whose soul with the chain of affection is twin’d, And a brow on which pity hath set her soft seal ; — Oh ! give me the maid with a sensitive mind.(That’s the end of Mary Ann Brown’s lengthy "I Speak Not of Beauty"…not nearly as famous as Herrick, which is choice.)

  4. ooof! o.k., cigars and whiskey sooner rather than later.Seriously, that has to do something for the ol’ self esteem, eh?Best,Ryan

  5. Bridgett, that is awesome. ThanksPeg, is vodka smuggling a profession? Because I could totally do that. I can even say "vodka" in Russian, which I’m sure would endear me to my Russian contacts.

  6. when we went to the Tom Petty concert last summer, they only let you bring in unopened bottles of water and soda, and they check your purse and pat you down. I, unwillng to pay $7.00 a drink all night, brought in a bottle of Propel lemon flavored water.But I also smuggled in several little airline-sized bottles of vodka and hid them in my cleavage. It caused quite a laugh when I extracted them. I then added them to my water and saved myself some money on drinks that night.So that’s what I meant, I bet you could do that too.

  7. Peg! You are my hero. I’m totally becoming a vodka smuggler, just as soon as my talents are needed.

  8. I don’t think you should sweat the rent or your financial status any more, at least not with those assets.

  9. Hmm. I wonder if I could have a career as a boob freckle model? I could be a pin-up girl but only showing my boobs. I could do that as a cover for my vodka smuggling ring.

  10. **I typed it and erased it, but in the spirit of no self censorship here you go:If you were wearing a pearl necklace, it would probably Exador’s dream come true.That would definitely finance the vodka operations.

  11. Sorry, Bosslady, I won’t forget again. Your vodka smuggling ring.Saraclark! That made me laugh so hard! I should have thought of that. It would have been a hilarious visual pun.

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