Oy. OY! Back off you salivating, stampeding horde! Disgusting.
Yes, today's topic is boobs. Breasts, for the purists. I've had 'em for 30 years and still feel weird referring to them by their Christian name. (Same way I always feel a little fraudulent calling myself a "woman", despite all the empowerment slogans out there, or more likely because of them.)
Well anyway, mine are boobs. I mentioned last blog that I think of mine disparagingly (the term was "fucking huge"), which caught the eye of a couple of friendly commenters. From the anything-but-typical lone wolf came the fairly typical response of "hey, what's to complain about?" And you know, far be it from me to complain about stuff. But okay, twist my arm. Except please don't because the resulting back-arching will only make them stick out more.
I have never liked my boobs. Not when they were little knobs sprouting up from the smooth planarity of my youthful chest, not a couple years later when, shopping for a grade 8 graduation dress, they bulged out of all corners of my no-longer-sufficient bra, leading my mother to astutely observe that it was time for a new bra. Not in my teenage years, when you would think if your boobs are ever gonna sit up straight on their own, this would be the time. (Alas, no.)
They are too big. They are quite heavy. The shape is not so much spherical as oval. They make buttoned blouses difficult to wear without the unsightly gaping business. But you know, as my nephew might say (if he weren't too horrified to be talking about my boobs with me... which, come to think of it, I would be too horrified to talk to him about too) - "That's a first world problem." I always thought if I was ever going to get plastic surgery, it would be a breast reduction and lift. But then I get horrified with myself for slipping into first world vanity contemplations.
So what's the deal with boobs anyway? Why are guys so into them? Is it because they (in most cases) don't have their own? (This raises the question: how do lesbians feel about boobs?) I mean, what if adam's apples were suddenly fetishized everywhere in popular culture? Or the fashion industry started designing pants for men that revealed just a hint of scrotum? I think I speak for most when I say, ew. Both of these body parts are fairly unattractive, and I'm fine with the fact I don't, as a woman, have either. Even the really good looking scrotums (scroti?) are quite wrinkly. Can you imagine if guys started getting laryngeal implants to make their neck bobbles protrude even more? Would adolescent boys be hyper-sexualized in the media?
Okay, I don't know where I'm going with any of this. A'ight I'm Audi 5000.
PS I got weighed today: maintained. This is good news because last Thursday I ate about 6 pieces of cake at work and then instead of doing penance that night, ordered a bucket of KFC as a cake chaser. It was awesome.
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