>I Need to Get This Off My Chest.

>As you’ve watched me blatantly whore for Best of Blogs votes this weekend, perhaps you’ve been a bit surprised, even alarmed, by witnessing this new and unexpected element of my personality.

“Lucinda always seemed like a woman of integrity,” I can hear you saying in my mind. “I would have thought she’d be far too dignified to grub for votes like a common state senator.”

Well folks, there was a time when I tried taking the high road. And it was full of potholes. Potholes and roadkill.

The year was 1989. I was in eighth grade and I had decided to run for freshman student council president.

With my fashionably french-rolled Guess? jeans, freshly permed hair and gaggle of girlfriends, I knew I was a shoo-in for the office. The competitors were quickly narrowed down to me and one other girl. Jody Cornette.

At 13, Jody had long frizzy hair, a lazy smile, and the buxom body of a full-grown woman. She wasn’t pretty. She wasn’t funny. She wasn’t smart. Yet she held a special place in the imaginations of her male classmates, a place the rest of us couldn’t hope to attain.

We girls, of course, hated her. And with so many side-ponytailed friends behind me in my bid for president, I knew I couldn’t fail. Still, I wasn’t taking any chances.

Just to make sure that no one forgot I was the candidate with the most to offer, I spent hours coloring dozens of posters emblazoned with the magnficent slogan, “Get up and go! Vote for the pro!” and a picture of a frightened, running Mickey Mouse beneath as added incentive. After all, The People loved Mickey Mouse.

Jody, on the other hand, put up a few poorly-colored bits of construction paper, imploring her classmates to “Vote for Jody.” My friends and I snickered when we saw them. Was that the best she could do?

Finally, the Day of Speeches arrived.

I stood before my fellow eighth graders and delivered a magnificent speech that I had been working on for weeks. Full of noble sentiments about friendship, academic excellence, good sportsmanship and free pizza, I had made my own self cry when delivering it in front of my bedroom mirror the night before. I received a standing ovation from my classmates. Triumphantly, I took my seat on stage as Jody nervously stood to deliver her rebuttal, scrawled on an index card.

“Um.” she began, before pausing in fright before the sea of faces. I giggled behind my hand.

“If I am frethman prethident (Did I mention Jody had a lisp?), um, I will do my betht to lithen to all your conthernth.”

The boys watched Jody’s heaving chest in rapt amazement.

“I will, um, try to get the dreth code changed tho that girlth can wear thorter thkirths.”

From the front row, my friend Emily rolled her eyes. It was a Christian school, for heaven’s sake. We knew that wasn’t going to happen.

Jody haltingly continued on for a few more moments, then sat back down to scattered applause. I clenched my fists in my lap. Victory was most assuredly mine.

“You’re so gonna win!” My friends assured me afterward. “She was horrible!” “She doesn’t have a chance!”

I remained calm throughout the voting. In my mind, I had already won. I wasn’t even nervous when the principal got on the intercom at the end of the day to announce the winners.

“Ninth grade secretary, Annie Arnold. Ninth grade treasurer, Rahul Rajabarad. Ninth grade vice president, Steven Carlson. Ninth grade president…”

I smiled, preparing myself for the crowd of well-wishers about to surround me.

“By a very close vote, Jody Cornette.”

Beside me, Emily gasped. I sat in mute horror, my victory smile still frozen on my face.

“What the….?!” my friend Kristen said from across the room.

Jeremy Aldred turned around in his seat, a pitying look on his face.

“The boys all voted for Jody,” he said apologetically.

“Why?!” Emily demanded angrily. “Lucinda was way better!”

“Jody has bigger boobs,” Jeremy shrugged. “Sorry,” he said to me, before turning back around.

Yes, folks. You read it right.

My potential career as a budding politican was undone by my boobs. Or lack thereof.

So imagine me now, a Mommy Blogger finalist with my arms protectively crossed over my chest, glancing around to see what the competition has to offer.

Apparently, Big Yellow House has stripper-sized boobs. Dasbecca is probably a D-cup. Personally, I’m not doing so bad, but a 34-C just isn’t gonna cut it in this competition.

So when you see me begging for votes right now, just picture in your minds an angry eighth grader with a really big perm, furiously stuffing Kleenex into her almost-A and swearing revenge.

Oh, and while you’re casting your ballots (and some people have found they can vote again after waiting 24 hours, hint hint!), please don’t forget about my friends… Michele Agnew in Best Overall Blog, Christina’s blog, My Topography, in the Art Blog category, and Raehan (Agog and Aghast) and Minerva (A Woman of Many Parts) in Inspirational Blogs.

I know you’ll do what’s breast. And I thank you for your loyalty.