Boobs, jugs, peaches, ninnies, tits, rack, eyes, knockers, cans, sweater meat, knobs, boobies, breasts, titties, mammaries, pins, bazooms, bazongas, headlights, hooters, lungs, fun bags, tatas, maracas, girls, twins and the list goes on.
What is the obsession with boobs? Especially men’s obsession – straight or gay, single or married, bi-sexual or A-sexual. When I lived in Paris, my “happy” flat mate Vivaldo loved my boobs. He used to hover outside the frosted glass window of the bathroom door waiting to catch a glimpse.
When I was in graduate school I did an action-based project on boobs. It was titled, “Do Big Boobs Really Make A Difference?” My professor at Montclair State loved it and I got an A. It was an interesting project. In a nutshell: I went to several places one of which was a supermarket. The first time I walked in with no cleavage but looking nice. I couldn’t find a soul to help me and left the store unsatisfied. The next time I went, I was sporting full boobage and the young men at Shop Rite couldn’t wait to come to my rescue. They actually followed me around the aisle and made me feel really uncomfortable.
What I found on my quest for truth was exactly what I thought I would find. They DO make a difference in how people treat you. Really how men treat you. You/They are objectified. You/They are ogled. Christ! Even Mike Tyson leered at my boobies, paused to smile and say a personal hello. Men are notoriously easy when it comes to visual stimulation. You have to be a confident woman to walk around with perky boobies.
A female friend of mine asked me if they were real and touched them for verification. Another friend, on my birthday, reached over into my shirt at the Avenue in Long Branch and felt me up! I looked at my husband and laughed. They’re real people. It’s all in the bra. Lift and push up.
The size of your breasts and the way you present them is everything. When I’m in a bad mood the last thing I want people to do is to leer at me and the twins, so I cover them up (this does not always help – it may be my posture). I always felt sorry for the girls in grammar school that had beautiful breasts and were completely objectified by immaturity.
My mom survived breast cancer and had to go through a double mastectomy. I had 2 tumors removed from each breast before I hit 30. Just waiting for the pathology report was one of the longest weeks of my life. Thank God they were benign but I know a lot of women, my age, younger and older who have battled with breast cancer. They are courageous women from whom we should take a lesson.
If it’s all about the boobs when you look at them, it should be all about the boobs when you take care of them. Self exams, mammograms, doctor visits. Just do it. Big or small, our breasts are important – we are important. In this day and age when we hear of so many incidents of breast cancer in both women and men (yes men), we need to take action quickly as early detection is the beginning of the battle.
So as a favor to me and as a service to yourselves, everyone grab your boobs on three. One, two, three…. It may save your life.
© 2011 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010. Republished.