She’s ambitious, you got to give her that much:

From Flora’s Life by Bruno Coq.

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She’s clearly been trained in the “dazzle with breasts, then follow up with a slice at the torso” school of swordplay. No substitute for armor, or even woad — but possibly effective with the advantage of surprise:

From Action Girls.

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I’m a lousy shopper, I miss all the good sales:

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I don’t care how blonde the Russian girl is … looking at this price list, I’m convinced the better deal is two Malay girls and a couple of bottles of good booze:

Found it on a tumblr.

Hey, look, a traveler’s tale about bizarre practices encountered in a foreign country. Note the tabloid “headline doesn’t match the story” bit — headline talks about breast slapping for “health”, story says it’s for enlargement.

Bust a move: Breast-slapping new health craze in Thailand

Want bigger breasts but shy away from the idea of surgery? Thailand claims to have the answer.

Already famous for its medical tourism services – including cheap breast implants – Thailand is promoting a “body slapping” technique that it claims can boost breast size, according to a video by the Bangkok Post.

It has even licensed one beauty shop in Bangkok to perform the non-surgical treatment, which involves kneading, massaging and hitting of the breasts, as well as buttock-slapping to firm the rear.

The traditional therapy has been practised by shop owner Khemmikka Na Songkhla — better known as Khunying Tobnom – for more than two decades. She claims the slapping shifts fat from one area to another, while kneading works excess fat towards the breasts.

She has approval from the Thai Government to carry out the technique after a study by the Thai Health Ministry reportedly found vigorous massage left volunteers’ breasts noticeably bigger. The Ministry went so far as to sponsor a program that urged women to learn how to slap their own breasts.

Clients can expect to gain about 5cm after the painful treatment, Tobnom said. However some are turned away as their breasts are too small.

The clinic charges $380 for six 10-minute slapping sessions

I suppose a bit of temporary puffiness from bruising and inflammation counts as “larger”, eh?

The pool itself is showing signs of decline — check out the cracked cinder blocks top center — but the company is fine:

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Courtesy of the English Broadside Ballad Archive we learn about Shameless Joan of Finsbury, who apparently combined cast iron hands and knees with drunken bravado and a reckless disregard for hot candle wax on the tender parts in and around her buttocks:

Shameless Joan
Or
The Old Woman of Finsbury
WHO
Went through the City upon all four, with a lighted Candle in her Back-side, and fear’d the Watch who was amaz’d at that dismal sight.

YOu that in merriment delight,
Pray listen well to what I write,
It i[s] a pleasant Jest you’ll find,
To cure a melancholly Mind:

As I upon the Watch did stand,
With Staff and Lanthorn in my hand,
A frightful Creature there I see,
Which fore amaz’d and startel’d me.

It seem’d to have four sprawling Feet,
On which it crawl’d along the Street,
And towards me at length it came,
Breathing as ’twere, a burning-flame.

This Creature was array’d in cloaths,
A huge broad Face, but ne’r a Nose,
Nor any Eyes could I behold,
The Heart within my Bre[a]st was cold.

The brawny Cheeks did me surprize,
They being of the larger size,
Then I had seen in all my days,
I for a while did stand and gaze.

What course to tak[e] I could not tell,
Thought I it is some Fiend of Hell,
That came to scare and frighten us,
With courage then I answer’d thus:

I am a Watchman at my Post,
Therefore if thou art Hag or Ghost,
Or a Hobgobling, or Night-mare,
Speak up, quoth I, Friend, who comes there?

Shameless, the Apparition cry’d,
Immediately I then reply’d,
I’ll quit my Post since it is so,
E’en shameless come, and shameless go.

Me thought a humane Voice I hear’d,
Althou[g]h an ill shap’d thing appear’d.
Therefore to the main Watch I run,
Crying out, Friends, we’re all undone.

The Watch cry’d out, What do you mean?
Saith I, Old Satan I have seen,
He is approaching to this place,
With flaming fire in his face.

This said we went to meet him then,
With staves and clubs full twenty Men;
At length this Devil prov’d to be,
Old drunken Joan of Finsbury.

Who being in an Ale-house late,
Not very far from Bishops-gate,
Had laid a Wager of a Crown,
That she would cross fair London-town

When each was sleeping fast in Bed,
Her Coats and Smock thrown o’re her head,
She backward was oblig’d to crawl,
Upon her hands nay feet and all:

Accordingly away she went,
And in her brawny Fundament,
A lighted Candle plac’d must be,
Which was a dreadful sight to see.

Joan won the Wager, for she past
A-cross the City, and at last
Meeting the Watch, she turn’d about
And fairly blew her Candle out.

Home she return’d without delay,
There was good laughing the next day
At the poor Watchman, who declar’d
He ne’r before had been so scar’d.

Upon her Hands and Feet she come,
Explosing of her naked Bum,
In which there stuck a Candle lighted,
This would the hardest Man affrighted.

Kind Neighbours, this was William Green
By whom this dismal sight was seen;
The Woman’s Name is known to be,
Old Shameless Joan of Finsbury.

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