Breasts, boobies, jugs, hooters, twin-peaks, pamsâ€¦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 â€˜milk-secreting organs` that have men all hot and bothered? I mean, seriouslyâ€¦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 wellâ€¦you get the point. Women want it bigger, smaller, firmer, softer,
I mean reallyâ€¦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 â€˜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`tâ€¦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 digressâ€¦
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 â€˜average`â€¦. (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 â€˜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 acceptedâ€¦ nayâ€¦joyfully embraced my jugs. I look at women around me and, NOâ€¦I don`t exactly have â€˜natural cleavage`, but neither am I forever conscripted to a life of servitude with a bra. Let`s put it this wayâ€¦I can dress â€˜em up, I can dress â€˜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?â€¦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 seeâ€¦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 sizeâ€¦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 breadâ€¦ or is it?
And that`s it. That`s my thought of the morning. Now, that deals with meâ€¦can anyone tell me why men are obsessed with hooters?