Eucharistia (eu-cha-ris’-ti-a): Giving thanks for a benefit received, sometimes adding one’s inability to repay.
It was pitch dark. No moon. No street lights. Lots of stars. I had dropped my keys in the unlit parking lot and now I couldn’t,t find them. My cellphone was locked in my car. I was screwed. Then I saw her coming across the parking lot. I could see her because she had a flashlight. I was sure her’s was the car parked next to mine. She was coming toward me. When she got up close to me I could see she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She fit all the stereotypes that I had battled to remove from my characterization of women’s looks. One of the worst popped into my head immediately: “Big tits.” I felt like a salivating dog.
Panting, I asked her to help me find my keys. She said she would if I would stop staring at her “breasts.” I promised. She found my keys. As she bent over to pick them up, I thought, “nice ass.” She said, “Oh yeah?” And threw my keys into the darkness.
She had read my mind. I was in deep shit.
She pulled out a what looked like a wand and said “sexist grits, give him tits.” Poof! I was a 38 D. “Nice tits,” she said, “Go find your fu*kin’ keys pretty boy.” I did—the sun was coming up.
The day at work was brutal. My boss asked me where I got the giant “knockers.” My secretary said “It looks like you won the booby prize.” Sal, my best friend who hangs out by the water cooler toasted me with a cup of water “Nice melons Bobetto!” My nemesis Frank asked me if I was wearing a bra.
I couldn’t take it. I ran out of the office. When I got to the parking lot, SHE was standing there. I didn’t know what to do. She caught me in some kind of magical lasso and pulled me toward her. I started praying: “Our Father who art in heaven. . .” She yelled “Shut up!” and made my breasts disappear. She asked me if I had learned anything. I said “Big boobs are a blessing and a curse.” She yelled “Idiot! and zapped even bigger breasts on me. I was a 48 D.
I cried and begged her to return me to normal. She said no and turned me into a woman. She said “Walk a mile in that body and try to learn something.” I did. I walked. I was body shamed with rude catcalls by three men who I passed. One guy got a tent in his pants as he came toward me and passed by. One rube tried to proposition me before saying anything else. Another guy offered me $50 to take a selfie with him squeezing one of my “double lattes.”
I was lost and panic stricken. I was a metonymy—my breasts were me and I was nothing but a breast. A BREAST? I screamed, I woke up. It was a nightmare. I squeezed my little man breasts and gave thanks it was only a dream.
I went back to sleep.
The Daily Trope 