Saturday, June 20, 2009

Boob Envy: We Got 'Em, You Want 'Em

One of my favorite stories of all time that was told to me was about a Champlain College student that when asked in class by his professor what extra body part he would grow if he were able to, he responded, “A female boob. Right in the middle of my chest.” When asked to explain his thinking, he said, “What man doesn’t want a boob just to play with whenever they want?” Not another hand or arm, not wings, not even another penis—a single, solitary female breast was this guy’s one desire.

Boob envy. It’s not an uncommon subject. Everywhere you go, there are women who wish that they were bigger, smaller, more perky, less droopy, less bouncy, more firm. Bigger boobs are seen as more feminine, sexy, desirable. But they’re also a pain in the ass. They’re heavy, they make running or sports difficult, they get in the way. And, if you’re a petite woman with big boobs and a little waist, good luck finding a tank top that actually fits without falling out of it. Small breasts are more functional, innocent, and you can actually go bra-less or wear backless dresses. But, as I’ve been told by numerous B and lesser cup women, they’d kill for more. To which large-breasted women reply: “Do you want some of mine?” No one seems to be quite satisfied with their mammary-centric lot in life, except for maybe the men who get to experience them.

An old flame of mine once said that if he could be a woman for a day, he’d be one of those girls that walk around in a thin, long t-shirt over leggings and no bra. I asked him why, and he looked at me like I had two heads. (Or, three boobs.) “Are you kidding? Those girls drive guys crazy! YOU CAN SEE THEIR BOOBS. Having boobs for a day would be so cool. Why would I not want to flaunt them?” (This was from a self-proclaimed ass man, nonetheless.) It seems as though even men are obsessed with the twin female orbs, hence the popularity of Hooters. And here you thought it was just for the food.

Hollywood, the porn industry, and photos airbrushed to almost epic proportions have made breast implants and fake breasts a lot more plentiful in the media than say…natural breasts. Women see them and get down and out that their nipples don’t point out perfectly like the Queen of England’s guards. Men see them and get ideas, which are then dashed when they roll over and look at their girlfriend. Trust me, a discerning eye can pick out the real from the fake within a glance. A friend of mine was boasting about the hot new poster he had hanging in his dorm room. “She’s so girl-next-door,” he said. A female friend and I walked in and almost immediately le him down within a few seconds of seeing it. “They’re not real.”

“How can you tell?”

“They’re so far apart, but they still point out. You can practically see the where they Photoshopped in more boob-age. Plus, no boobs are that naturally round. It’s like those women in thongs on the beach in beer posters.”

“You mean--” Here, a horrified gasp.

“Yeah, they’re fake too.”

But I’m not here to disappoint and make people feel if their cups are either half-empty or overflowing—this is our boob appreciation issue! So ladies, take care of the girls. No matter what size, shape, or origin, go get them checked out and make sure you’re healthy. And gentlemen, no, although you do not count as a certified ob-gyn, feel free to let your lady know the love and affection you have for her set.


No comments:

Post a Comment