Twin Peaks

Breasts, boobies, jugs, hooters, twin-peaks, pams…and I could go on

Google search for boobs: 31,100,000

Google search for breasts: 34,300,000

Oxford Dictionary: Either of two, milk-secreting organs on the upper front of a woman`s body.

Doesn`t sound so sexy, does it? So, what is it about these ‘milk-secreting organs` that have men all hot and bothered? I mean, seriously…it`s fatty (adipose) tissue, a couple of nerves and some skin. But men rave about it, ogle it, want to touch it, lick it and well…you get the point. Women want it bigger, smaller, firmer, softer,

I mean really…I know that in many ways the breast and the nipple are sexual organs. But so are the penis and the vagina – And on another blog I mentioned that I happen to think that genitalia isn`t particularly attractive *gasp* (there`s something wrong with her). For that particular reason – and because it`s just plain not DONE – I don`t go around crotch watching and saying to my girlfriends, Hey, look at the size of that one!. Neither have I had the experience of some guy having to insist that, his face is up here.

My brother (bless him he`s such a ‘guy` sometimes) once told me that the world is clearly divided into men who like breasts and men who like butts (kind of like a world where people either like George Bush, or doesn`t…but not as seedy). And some of my friends clearly live in a democracy where they weren`t breast-fed as kids and are now making up for lost time…but I digress…

My issue is with myself; and my obsession with my breasts over the past few years and how I`m just not going to give a rat`s ass about it anymore. Now I am a perfectly normal size ‘average`…. (HAH! Thought I was just going to come out and say it. Perverts), but have always wanted to be bigger. Let`s just say that I always fell into the category of women who felt that I needed to get some extra assistance to fill a dress. Now, none of my boyfriends have had any issues (but they were DEFINITELY butt men) and insisted that they were ‘perfect` (and they would say anything to score brownie points). However, it is only now at this ripe old age (ha ha) of 28 that I have accepted… nay…joyfully embraced my jugs. I look at women around me and, NO…I don`t exactly have ‘natural cleavage`, but neither am I forever conscripted to a life of servitude with a bra. Let`s put it this way…I can dress ‘em up, I can dress ‘em down. Most of time I don`t wear a bra and I can wear the type of tops my bustier friends only salivate over. Need a bit of help?…it`s called Le Senza (I can`t do Wonderbra…makes me feel like I`m following my boobs around). I don`t have problems finding swim wear, most lingerie isn`t a problem and I can dance around and not be afraid of slapping anybody on the floor with my twin peaks.

So, you see…I have decided to embrace my perfect second letter of the alphabet cup (there. Said it). And if anybody`s wondering why I don`t even seem slightly embarrassed by this very candid discussion about my jugglies and it`s size…it`s because I don`t care. Not even if you know me. Because it`s just these two things on the front of my chest that is supposed to nourish offspring and create a bit of sexual stimuli. Ho hum. It`s not like it`s the best thing since slice bread… or is it?

And that`s it. That`s my thought of the morning. Now, that deals with me…can anyone tell me why men are obsessed with hooters?

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