Breasts. For most women, they’re both a blessing and a curse.
They can feed a baby; cushion a crying child; fill out a sweater very nicely; and they titillate (pardon the pun) the average man. To a drag queen, they’re stage props. To a woman who’s had a mastectomy, they’re an intrinsic part of herself that’s gone forever.
They’ve been called jugs, hooters, knockers, melons, ta-tas, ‘the girls,’ bubbies, feed bags, boobs, and bazongas.
“Scientists now believe that the primary biological function of breasts is to make men stupid.” – Dave Barry
What is it about breasts? Why are men so drawn to them, and why are women with small ones so desperate to have bigger ones?
Are boobs really all they’re stacked up to be?
Even though I’m no threat to Pamela Anderson (before the breast reduction surgery, that is), there are still times I wish they were a little… smaller. I envy models in magazines, with their halter dresses and French bikinis and scoop-necked t-shirts, because it’s impossible for me to wear such things without looking like a second-rate porn star.
And believe me, that’s NOT the look I’m going for.
Small breasts are so much more chic, compact, and manageable. The French say that the breast should fit into a champagne glass (not a Big Gulp from 7-11). Anything else is overkill. Besides, small-sized boobs are more suited to fashion. The boyish, gamine look, à la Audrey Hepburn or Twiggy, isn’t happening if you pack a pair of big ones. To paraphrase Forrest Gump, curvy is as curvy does.
Then there’s the other problem that bigger boobs present. Going braless really isn’t an option. Nor can the bra come off the rack of the local Wal-Mart; it has to be an expensive underwire number from a department or specialty store. And no matter how expensive it is, or how wide the straps are, they’re pretty much guaranteed to dig into a girl’s shoulders and/or feel like a BDSM torture device by day’s end.
Big breasts also attract male attention, which can be a good thing, or bad. It’s good if you like that kind of attention. It’s not so good if you don’t. When you’re young and already self-conscious, it can be the worst thing in the world.
“People think you can’t be clever if you have big breasts.” – Kelly Brook
Shakespeare often used the plot device of a girl masquerading as a boy in his plays. Viola in “Twelfth Night,” Rosalind in “As You Like It,” Portia in the “Merchant of Venice” – all of these ladies bound their breasts and disguised themselves as men in order to gain power in a male-dominated world. Because even if a woman was the chatelaine of a great house and oversaw a retinue of servants, outside of the domestic domain, she was powerless.
Her boobs got in the way.
Of course, men – most of them, anyway – love big knockers. And because they do, most women want to have them. So we have breast augmentation surgery. Or we stick those chicken fillet things in our bras (or in seventh grade, handfuls of Kleenex), thrust out our chests, and hope for the best.
In the end, if a woman isn’t satisfied with her boobage – whether the acreage is too small, or too big – she can always bring them up (or down) to size.
My own opinion? If you’ve got ’em, flaunt ’em. If you don’t, be glad, and go braless.
Either way, it’s really all a bust…
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