Immediately after Shane and I got married, we were staying at this lovely beach resort, having a grand time day dreaming about our future. Our flight home - it's funny I say "home" now - was just a few days away at the time.

One morning, we decided to ask for breakfast outside, facing the ocean. There was this beautiful canopy with comfy sofa-seats ready for us. We put our feet up, ordered almost everything on the menu, and got ready to have a long, relaxing brunch by the seaside. As the food started to arrive one by one, we noticed this cutesy little squirrel perched on the edge of our canopy, giving us the innocent puppy eyes. We were both really happy that morning, almost delirious I'd say, so we were feeling a lot more charitable than usual. STUPID should be the word but let's go with charitable for now.

Okay fine. I was the one feeling that way. Shane was just...Shane. Just two days ago, I was telling him how - oh, wait what is this? TANGENT AHOY: I was telling him how in the past six and a half years that I've known and loved him, nothing much has changed in him personality-wise whereas I don't even recognise myself in the mirror anymore. Shane's been pretty much the same, almost always uniformly unpredictable but constant. Does that make sense?

Anyway, he was as calm and not-easily-excitable then as he is now, and I was a hell of a lot more easily excitable two years ago than I am now. I'm rambling.

The point is that the stupid squirrel came up to me and pretended to be a dog for some time (rolled over and showed me its belly for scratchies etc) and I totally caved. So I...gave it a sachet of brown sugar. Why? Because earlier that morning, I had emptied my brains out of my ears and flushed it down the toilet.

Within seconds, I kid you not, an entire family of squirrels was not only inside the canopy but also on our table. They were casually coming up to us, taking bread, fruits and other miscellaneous food items from our plates like we weren't ten times bigger than them. It did not even cross their minds that we could potentially crush their skulls with our thumbs and carry on with our brunch like nothing had happened. Not that I could bring myself to do that considering the frenzy I was in but had I been as calm and strong as Shane at the time, casual skull-crushing may have taken place.

I was standing up on the comfy sofa seats by now, using the thin little scarf around my neck to shoo these monsters away from my food and simultaneously attract the attention of the hotel staff. While all this was happening, Shane had a bored expression on his face and simply got on with his food. There was a squirrel perched right next to him and when I turned to ask for help, they both just sat there, checking out my boobs.

This is another thing I swear happened but no one takes me seriously. Those squirrels? They were little perverts, every one of them, especially the one high on sugar and low on inhibition. They were totally checking out my boobs.

"What boobs are even there to check out?" is a common response this story garners and I understand perfectly why that is. But I'd argue that there's such a thing as proportion and in proportion to my tiny body, my boobs are exactly the right size they need to be. Did I just call my boobs tiny? Maybe. But that's not the point here. The point, my friend, is that in proportion to the squirrels...okay I give up.

The other day, while walking to the supermarket with The Bromance, we chanced upon a little pervert squirrel. And as per tradition, I began narrating this tale to him for the umpteenth time. I was expecting his usual response which is the same as those of many others before him when he suddenly bore the expression of a man who had solved a puzzle and remarked, "The squirrels must have thought your boobs were little nuts! They were hungry and feasting after all".

"CHESTNUTS!", I exclaimed.

And just like that, a mystery was solved. Because let's be honest, it didn't make a lot of sense, did it? No one would ever look at my boobs in a sexual way otherwise.