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I have seven-year-old twin boys. I’ve been a single mom for almost three years, and in the time leading up to my separation, we had a family bed. I mean, the boys had their own room, but most nights we slept together. This made sense being that I breastfed them until they were two, but it was also a parenting choice that made sense to my co-parent and me on a personal level. The family bed.
As time has gone on – as the boys have gotten older – it’s made more and more sense to redefine boundaries. We talk very openly in our house, and the phrase “personal bubble” is used to describe limit setting and expectations. Nonetheless, I remain steadfast in my belief that the human body isn’t something to be ashamed of, and in many ways the boys are still too young to sexualize it. We have basic rules of courtesy in the house, like to knock on the door before entering bathrooms or bedrooms, but we don’t always remember to shut the door in the first place.
So, imagine my surprise when, as I was getting dressed one day recently, one of my sons came in and, for reasons I’ll never understand, lifted up my breasts, looked at me, and said, “Didn’t these use to be up here?”
Cue the sound of a needle skipping off a record.
Cue the sound of my door closing. Forever.
Mom’s bubble just got bigger.
Yes! They did used to be up there! But then I breastfed you and your brother until you were two! You killed them! I’m not saying I want a medal for breastfeeding twins until they were two but, as the saying goes, I’d at least like a chest to pin it on.
Nice medal, Gloria. Interesting choice, pinning it in the middle of your abdomen like that.
A couple of days later, I was talking to my sister, Kim, who’d just had gall bladder surgery. She also had a minor surgery last year.
“Yeah. I am not having anymore surgeries!” she said. “Well, not until next year when I get my boobs done.”
My sister and I couldn’t be built more physically different. I’m 5’ 5”, red haired, brown eyed, on the slender side, and, well, as I used to joke, at least I got the brains. (It was much funnier when we were kids, trust me. Well, to me.) Kim, on the other hand, is 5’ tall, blond, blue eyed, and…er…more “full figured.”
“I wish we could just share. Give a little, get a little,” I told her. Then I told her the story about what my son said and she laughed. And laughed. “Anyway,” I said, “it’s not like if I had 7,000 extra dollars I would exactly put it into a boob job. There are plenty of other things competing for that kind of money.”
“But, you’re going to start contributing to that online journal now. You could pay for it when you start making money.”
“Ah. No,” I told her. “I don’t get paid for writing for them. I do it for the satisfaction of it. And satisfaction won’t buy you a boob job.”
I thought that was pretty funny. Decided I wanted a shirt that said that. Because, at the end of the day, if it’s worth saying, it’s worth putting on a shirt. That’s my philosophy.
“Is there any such thing as real satisfaction without perfect tits?” my friend Cheryl asked when I told her this.
“That is my point, my friend.”
“I had a disturbing moment the other night,” she told me. “When I was in bed, I rolled over on my side. My aging body has lost the ability to retain boob shape. They’re like small, sparsely filled bean bags. Not attractive!”
“You want a real moment of horror?” I asked. “Next time you’re naked, go to a mirror, lift your arms above your head and try to press your elbows together.”
“That sounds like a terrible idea. You know what else is awful? Being on top and a little hunched over with your partner and looking down at your chest. Dim lighting, but still enough to see. The horror! The horror!”
I was at a party Saturday night and met a whole room full of women, to whom I brought up this very subject. (I’m great fun at parties.) It seems like moms are the ones who sympathize the most.
You hear all the time about how people don’t feel as old as their age. “Maude is 86, but boy is she young in spirit.” That kind of thing. But for women – maybe especially moms – I think many of us feel young in body as well. And when you’re having a moment of intimacy – when you’re supposed to be feeling sexy – and you look down and your once full, shapely breasts are little, misshapen pendulous pears…Well, it can sometimes take the spark out of the moment.
But I wonder: Would I really do it? If I won the lottery right now, I would get breast augmentation surgery from breast augmentation Kentucky center!
Hm. It’s hard to say. On the one hand, I practically majored in Feminist Studies in college, and I truly do feel that the human body should be celebrated. On the other hand, I think about it, so obviously all that learnin’ didn’t take the impulse away. If I won the Powerball, there are a thousand other things I would absolutely do with the money – but it’s not like I would spend it all on humanitarian causes. Right?
Of course, there’s very little chance of my winning the Powerball. I’d go so far as to say almost none. So if I’m ever going to be rich enough that the only thing left to buy are breast implants, it’s going to have to be because of this writing thing. Even if it doesn’t ever pay out, at least I truly do get a great amount of satisfaction from it. However, it’s the only skill I’ve got and if anything is going to make me millions, it will have to be this.
So, come on writing. Mama needs a new pair of boobs!
I will be topless in front of the mirror tonight, trying to press my elbows together over my head. And then I’ll take my Lexapro.
I already tried. Please don’t do it! I’m only 26 and it scared the bejusus out of me!
My gift to you. 🙂
You remember what I wrote the other day. I don’t like having big boobs. It’s not really worth it. They hurt and get in the way and make you feel uncomfortable. Also I feel like I am 63 years old perhaps it is the wild life my boobs have given me.
It isn’t so much the “big” part that makes me a a little bummed out about aging, it’s more the “perky” part. Big has never been a problem for me. And, you know, I’m glad. You’re not the only person who has ever mentioned how miserable it actually is. Plus, when my sister was going through middle school with her larger-than-life breasts, she had to suffer all manner of unwanted attention.
I miss the unwanted attention now that I’m older. *sigh* 🙂
@Kim – I’m sure there are still plenty of middle school boys who would be happy to give it to you. 😀
You realize I love you, right? And that I think you’re gorgeous? What is it with this auto-reply, sarcastic thing I do with you? It comes from all those years of fighting…
I think it comes from your jealousy of my larger-than-life breasts. Just sayin. 😀
I love you, too!
Remember when boobs bounced instead of swayed? ?
Wow. That brought me back…
Barely. I do remember when my waist was lower and my boobs were higher. That was probably right around the same time.
P.S. Jamie – you need to go to Gravatar and upload a photo, so that we can all behold your loveliness when you post. Have to – but don’t worry, it’s quick and easy.
http://en.gravatar.com/
yeah, so is your mom. heh.
That is completely offensive! And hilarious. Oh, and P.S. My mom might just stop in and read this some day. Just sayin’…
Hi Gloria’s mom!
Feel free to ignore me. I channeled my brother for a second. He’s gone now.
My boobs are pretty small and generally manageable and as-yet un-accosted by babies. Not quite as perky as they used to be, but no major damage to report.
I am generally unoffended by my small breasts now, perhaps for the first time in my life. I’m glad they’re on the small side. I can get away without wearing a bra if I don’t feel like it, and gravity’s influence, despite its best efforts, has been minimal, as physics dictates.
I will not be getting a boob job. Wouldn’t even consider it for a moment.
Easy for me to say.
Please wait until I put on my goggles to begin throwing fruit.
Brains and perky boobs.
Whole package?
I think the “un-accosted by babies” part is key. I love(d) my small breasts. After pregnancy and 18 months of breastfeeding though… you just never get the breast tissue back. I don’t want them bigger I just miss the general breast-like shape they used to retain all by themselves.
Not enough to get a boob job though. For someone who endured natural childbirth, I’m surprisingly pain-adverse. And also? I’ve known enough strippers and seen enough augmented breasts in real life to think they’re a little… strange. Not quite for me.
I was never unhappy with my small breasts either. The baby thing did it. They’ve lost enough shape and firmness that I’ve lost the ability to go bra-less for the most part unless I’m wearing a baggy T-shirt with a baggy sweatshirt over it, then no one could ever tell.
I don’t want a boob enlargement, just a firming and shaping, so they looked like they did nine years ago, pre-bambinos. I’m pretty happy with my nearly-B’s, just not the way they behave.
Word!
Maybe this wayward thought and impulse would quit returning to me if I hung out with more strippers. Putting it on my to-do list now.
I agree with Cheryl. Let’s revisit this conversation when you’ve had babies, shall we?
But seriously, I love hearing that you’re content with your body. That is a good place to be – and one that I return to over, and over, and over again. And then my son walks in the room…
It’s easy to be content with your body when, as you say, the most transformative thing that has happened to it is time (and some alcohol and cigarettes and a total lack of regard for maintenance).
And, I don’t want to brag–or I do, because I am obviously spoiled and I think it is my duty in this situation to jinx myself totally and irreparably–but my father’s mother remained 5’7″ and 125 until the day she died, even after having 4 kids.
I don’t remember what her boobs looked like.
I’ll probably die of the alcohol or cigarettes before I get a chance to find out, at the rate I’m going.
I’ve got it.
I’ll trade you my TWO (relatively) perky boobs for just one of your children. Deal?
No?
Yeah. I wouldn’t either.
Deal, you can have my daughter. Comes with a grandchild and everything!
Sweet. Lifetime worth of procreation out of the way just like that. I’d never have to have sex again. God. If only.
That didn’t come off right.
The point was that those saggy boobies of yours are trophies, in a way. As much as I have the luxury of small, unmolested-by-children breasts, you have something awesome to show for your boobs. What could possibly be more womanly than a body that bears, without shame, the battle scars of pregnancy and childrearing? What’s more feminine than that? What the hell do women have that men don’t, what distinguishes them more from their male counterparts, if not that?
Once again, I show my naivete, maybe. Maybe I don’t know what the hell I’m saying. Maybe I shouldn’t tout the glory of saggy boobs until I’ve tried them.
But it’s really a small price to pay, relative to the reward. Right? RIGHT? Because if kids aren’t worth it, someone really needs to tell me before I wreck my boobs.
It is a small price to pay in the big picture. But think of a mom’s life as a bank account. If I keep making little debits, CVS here, gas there, etc. my balance slowly whittles down. When my balance is down to $5.47 and I make a $10 purchase, I get slapped with a $35 fee.
Moms pay a shit ton of small prices and make hundreds of sacrifices, not one of which I would change or take back, I’m happy to do them. But dammit can’t our bodies cut us a break on just this one?!
You’re definitely not showing your naivete, Becky, and you’re absolutely correct that kids are worth it. But after nine years of being a mom I have finally learned that I am important too, that taking care of myself and liking myself deserve to be higher than 20th on my priority list. I came to this realization, stood naked in the mirror, and said, “Fuck!”
I don’t know. As a person who has had innumerable surgeries beyond my control, I can’t imagine undertaking one electively.
Again, I feel like I should not be allowed to speak, not knowing the feeling and so on, but man.
I haven’t seen my body change because of kids, but I’ve definitely seen it change, regardless of kids.
I have some pretty deep wrinkles on my forehead, mostly because I use my eyebrows a lot when I emote and because I furrow them a lot in thought and/or disgust.
I have wrinkles around my dimples from using them a lot.
The wrinkles on the right side of my face are a little deeper, since when I smile with just one side, it’s usually that one.
My right leg (and ass cheek) is smaller than my left because I suffered serious atrophy when I was 19 waiting for a knee surgery, and I’ve favored using/standing on my left leg ever since.
My septum is deviated and my nose asymmetrical because I’ve broken my nose 3 times: Twice on ice and once coming off a horse.
My entire face is asymmetrical because my heart kept stopping when I was being born, so in a panic, the doctor yanked me out with forceps in such a violent attempt to save my life that he dented my head and it had to be fixed by surgery when I was a month old.
So on and such forth.
I wouldn’t change a thing.
Becky, you’re totally right. And that is part of why, while it is great fun to talk about boobs and sagging body parts and blame it on the kids, none of us moms (here, anyway) would trade it for a second. And truthfully, I am proud of my body – and those of other moms like Gloria’s, who endured more than one pregnancy including (gasp!) twins. That’s just crazy. And amazing. And beautiful. Oh my God, and FED them too.
Tongue is planted firmly in cheek, I think, for much of this discourse. Although, in this post-feminist age, even we can’t tell when we’re kidding, right?
It’s totally worth it to wreck your boobs for kids. You’ll need a good supply of mint juleps and fly swatters, though. (kidding! well, about the fly swatters. keep the mint juleps, or whatever floats your boat.)
And Sarah, that’s another good point – the point at which parents have to begin to take back some of the self we’ve freely handed over to the savages, for sanity’s sake.
The thread that runs through the whole post and comments, I think, is really about aging, and the realization of looking older than one feels. Which is pretty universal, no matter what one’s circumstances. The bearing children/saggy boobs connection just puts it all in sharp relief. Or, not-so-sharp relief, as it were.
Heh. @ Becky – you must have one severely furrowed brow. 🙂
Hey! Easy now, Gloria! Don’t forget the dimples. That’s right. I has cutesy parts.
(And incidentally, it’s the left, not the right side I half-smile with more. Try figuring this out. It’s weird testing your half-smile when you’ve got nothing to half-smile about.)
Cheryl, I have never been super comfortable with my appearance. I was always aware that my body was above average but that my face was kinda iffy.
I’ve spent a lot of time coming to terms with my face.
At this point, the only thing I’m really unhappy with is the quality of my skin, which would likely improve a great deal the second I quit smoking and began taking care of myself in a conscious way in general.
But without kids, who has the time or excuse to take care of herself, right? Am I right? 😉
And I realize it’s tongue-in-cheek.
When I comes to kids, I’m going with kennels and Miller Lite. Plain and simple.
Kennels and Miller Lite – just like Dr. Spock said! I like your style Becky 🙂
I don’t know anyone, myself included, who is super comfortable with his or her appearance. For a long time, I was nowhere in the vicinity of comfortable with my appearance. Like you, I am coming to terms; I would like to think I am getting there for the most part.
I think your face is awesome, especially the bloody fangs and furry stripes 🙂
Those aren’t stripes – they’re furrowed brows.
One of my actual fangs broke off recently. It will probably surprise no one to hear that I’m one of those people with fairly pronounced canines. At some point, one of them broke. I’m not sure when, but I’m despondent.
I feel a bit crippled.
But the doc will put it back. I’ll be back to tearing throats in no time.
Insider Mom Tip for Becky: I would like to recommend that sometimes (especially if you give birth to a Constant Talker like my son) you give the Miller Lite to the kids and take a long nap locked in the kennels where they can’t bother you. 🙂
Ah ha HA!
Point Tawni.
lol
You know what I love about a blog where the comments are mostly dominated by women? All the smileys.
😀
“But for women – maybe especially moms – I think many of us feel young in body as well. And when you’re having a moment of intimacy – when you’re supposed to be feeling sexy – and you look down and your once full, shapely breasts are little, misshapen pendulous pears…Well, it can sometimes take the spark out of the moment.”
This is so right-on. I do feel young in body. In my mind, I am the same (relatively) hot 20-something that first seduced my husband lo these dozen years ago. And then I catch a glimpse during an intimate moment and my brain shrieks. It’s not that I hate myself or anything; it’s just that my inner picture of myself doesn’t match the outer reality in that situation. I feel all Angelina Jolie, but I look more like Jerri Blank.
Great post! Congrats, G!
I definitely don’t hate myself either. I hope that was clear in my post. It just seeps in: I am aging. My body is getting older quicker than I am. And its…odd. And that is probably something many people – not just women – can relate to.
Something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately: Do you think the “single mom” part has something to do with it? I’ve been thinking about my potential future and who I might meet who will want basically what’s left of me after two kids and a divorce. I almost feel that unless I meet a divorced guy with kids of his own, no ever-single, childless man will ever really get me. They wouldn’t understand the non-identical breasts or that little post-baby belly pouch I’ve never been able to get rid of. I don’t know, maybe my boobs remind me that my future mating pool might be more limited than I would like.
Sarah – when I
win the lotterypublish my repressed-Mormon boy-wizard vampire novel, I am so buying you some boobies. Oh, and you’re hot, smart, clever, interesting, and, in general fairly lovely. So, at least you have that going for you.You’re wonderful. I’ll accept an ego boost any day. You publish your novel and I’ll win the lottery, as I have no other viable bankable skills at the moment. We’ll gift each other boobs.
I don’t think it came across that way at all. I think all of us – male or female, those who have kids and those who don’t – can relate to that moment in the mirror. Most of the changes of aging happen pretty gradually, but there are definitely wtf! moments along the way. The gap between the inner perception and the outer reality kind of rips open a bit.
Anyway, I was really just going for the Strangers with Candy reference.
“…my inner picture of myself doesn’t match the outer reality”
EXACTLY, Cheryl. I’m shocked every time I look in the mirror these days. I don’t feel old inside my brain, so who is this middle-aged woman staring back at me?
Aging is so weird. I’m desperately trying to make peace with the physical changes, focus on who I am inside, blah, blah, blah, so aging might matter/hurt a little less, but it still freaks me out. And if I may be blunt: men don’t want to fuck my beautiful soul. (Hey, can that be my cringe-inducing T-shirt?) I’m human. I still want to be found attractive, no matter how much I try to “zen up” my brain and pretend the outer shell doesn’t matter.
Forget a T-Shirt, Tawni. My first book is going to be called Men Don’t Want to Fuck My Beautiful Soul. I don’t know how I’m going to spin it, but the damned thing will practically write itself.
I’ve just gotten to work and will not have time to respond to everyone until later tonight, but I’ve read through all the comments since last night and I love that so many men are pro-aging body. I am really digging all of the support all of these men are offering. I’m pro-aging body, too, actually. Like I said to Will, I don’t want to be 80 with boobs up to my clavicle. But I would like to remain young while I’m still young. My attitude will adjust, and does. And when I’m chasing the boys around or reading with them I, of course, don’t think about any of this. When we’re at the library, I don’t spend the whole time worrying about my elasticity. But, you know, I’m a 33-year-old single mom trying to navigate this dating world. And no matter what anybody says, when push comes to shove, people will select you first and foremost based on physical attraction. I’m aware of this all the time. Mostly I say fuck it. But I think a moment of self-doubt when your son points out your chesticular shortcomings is warranted.
Ah, Gloria! It’s finally here! Congrats!
As for boobs…I don’t know what to do about mine. I’ve had large breasts since grammar school and time has taken its toll. I’m not a big fan of breast implants but I have considered the possibilies. Like, suck out all my junk and put in some perky junk in its place. Not, big round, hard junk. YUCK! Like very natural, soft stuff. You know what I mean.
Makes me wonder, though, why women are so self conscious about our breasts. Men love to look, regardless of any imperfections and even though women are so hard on one another, we shouldn’t care. For every saggy boob I may have she has three times as many dimples in her ass. So, we’re even!
Women need to start complimenting one another. Stop hating on other women because it only proves how self aware we are. We blame our body issues on these crazy standards that men have because of airbrushed magazine covers but it’s not even that. We are the cause! Women. So mean. Ugh!
(sorry if my mood is apparent in my comment. one of those days…)
I agree. I’m all for women supporting women. I think the impetus for this post was less about what I see in other people and more about how life constantly reminds me that I am moving closer and closer to death. Where once my body’s only mission was to grow, ripen, firm up, now it’s clear that it’s begun to say, “Ah, fuck it.”
You are a beautiful beautiful person.
You too! Thanks for the compliment!
I’ve never experienced what you are experiencing. I am, however, currently contemplating robbing a bank for boob surgery due to a mommy boob problem. See, mine are small, really very small actually. They filled nicely while I was pregnant both times and during the first few months of breastfeeding. But like the rest of the baby weight, they’re now gone. While certain boob problems are emphasized via large busts, others are magnified in those of us with itty-bitties, namely that they are now two completely different sizes. Not talking one A and one C, but different enough that I see the difference and it drives me nuts.
Body issues, they suck. Beginning to notice signs of aging sucks.
Hey, boob size, that might be one of the first things we’ve found that we *don’t* have in common.
Talk about signs of aging…I have wrinkles under my eyes! I’m 26! Wrinkles! Under. My. Eyes. And why does makeup love to hang out in wrinkles?! Is it warm in there?
Yep, few wrinkles, few hairs where they shouldn’t be, and a stray gray or two. Seriously, I’m 31. Isn’t that supposed to be the new 21 or something? What jackass hack came up with that one?
Makeup likes cozy crevices. It’s a lot like spackle.
I want a shirt that says Makeup likes cozy crevices.
ditto.
Interestingly, my boobs have doubled in size since I breastfed the boys. That’s ironic, ain’t it? I spent my entire adolescence feeling like I was inadequate in the boob department and wishing they were bigger. But now they’re bigger, but, well, saggy.
My friend Lain once told me that the Universe always answers with, “Yes, my child.” What she didn’t explain is that after the Universe says this, it points and laughs.
I’ve heard of the this mythological “breasts bigger after breastfeeding” phenomenon. I thought it was right up there with unicorns and excalibur. Fascinating.
I hope to write for this site for a long time. I like this site, and contributing to it. But even if I write for this site until I’m old(er) and grey(er), I fear I will never in so contributing ask so monumental and important a question as “Is there any such thing as real satisfaction without perfect tits?”
No, but seriously, my lifelong fascination with boobs began when, as a child just slightly beyond toddler, I once thought Janis the Muppet was topless during the opening credits. I think she was wearing on orange tube top that matched her orange complexion. I feel hopelessly and irrevocably for her long blond hair, her big pink lips, and her felt. (Was she felt? I don’t know, but I hoped to! Whoa!)
As for whether to do it or not . . . I know several girls who have done it and are happy with the results, as well as girls who’d been too endowed and had them reduced. I’ve read lots of guys (and girls, for that matter) disparage breast augmentation as “fake boobs,” but hey, they’re real if I can feel ’em.
As for the human body should be celebrated, well, sure. But that doesn’t mean some enhancement here and there doesn’t contribute to the spirit of celebration. Judging by your picture, you have some very beautiful tattoo work on your back, there, so you can’t be that reticent to alter your body, can you? Also, if you don’t like the results, saline implants are way easier to have removed than ink.
Ah. Will, you make a great point with the comparison between my (many) tattoos and plastic surgery. In a weird way, tattoos are sanctioned, cool, tough. You’re a rebel. If you get breast implants, on some level you know that you’re going to become that girl. Which, honestly, I could give a rip about. What I do care about is being 80 years old with breasts up to my neck. At some point, it just becomes silly. Which is why I would likely never do it. Well, and the pain. Oh, and the money.
mainly the money.
Can’t you just take them out later? Or get smaller ones? By then there will be some new technology anyway, like automatic sizing based on age, skin elasticity, etc.
I mean, it’s already 2010.
Yeah but look how long we’ve waited for hover cars.
True, but does anyone really need a hover car?
I guess about as much as anyone needs automtically sizing sexual and reproductive organs! It sure would revolutionize the porn industry, though; and change the nature of spam forever.
I’m totally in favor of automtically sizing sexual and reproductive organs. As a matter of fact, I think I may take the small amount of money I invest annually in hydrogen fuel cell technology and dump it into that. I mean, we’re all fucked anyway, right? Let’s make that more than a metaphor!
I’m ready to build the business case if you are.
Hm. How would one truly go about writing that particular business plan, I wonder?
I’d welcome you aboard, Gloria, but you’ve been walking the decks of the Good Ship Breakdown for some time, and it’s nice to see you as a contributor.
In a comment my last post, Kip Tobin referenced a post he’d written many moons ago, concerning a film with the oh-so-catchy title Without Tits, There Is No Paradise. This seems an answer to the question Will highlighted in the above comment…and note that “tits” is not modified or qualified in any way, shape, or form, implying that tits are paradise in every way, shape, and form.
G
That’s right. And, actually, one of the parts of the conversation that occurred with my friend Cheryl that I didn’t include was when she asked if I thought her husband was bothered by her irregular boobs.
I said, “Are you having sex with him?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re good.”
Oh yeah, he’s fine. And so am I, when it comes right down to it. And when his nutsack rests somewhere in the vicinity of his knees, I’ll be loving and kind about that, too 🙂
@Cheryl – I just snorted water out my nose.
Thank God it wasn’t wine or tequila, or something else that burns! Then I’d have to feel bad.
Oh, and thank you for the welcome, Greg. I surely do appreciate it.
I tried the elbows above the head trick in the mirror tonight. I was shocked to find it was an improvement. I will now be posing this way in all my pictures.
I think I just fell in love with Tree.
That tends to happen. I, myself, am a Tree hugger.
I was just thinking the same thing.
*Hugs Tree*
Here’s a weird perspective for you – try being a guy who grew up living as a girl through high school (i was damn cute too!), and eventually got on hormone therapy in his twenties, watched his body develop into that of a pretty good looking female, only to pull the plug on going all the way “girl” at the last minute, have a double mastectomy and go back to just being male… What do I miss? Cute clothes and boobs. Mine were awesome.. it’s funny that I can relate to my female friends talking about theirs.. I think if money were no object I’d get mine back, and a few other things “fixed”
On the flip side I think it’s just the course of nature, its probably not easy to watch our bodies degrade before our eyes, but it’s part of the human experience and it has a beauty all it’s own. It’s just we’re so conditioned to hate our bodies even though we really shouldn’t… Oh well 🙂
@Jess – first of all, housekeeping: please go to Gravatar (http://en.gravatar.com/) and upload a photo. 🙂
Second of all, thank you for sharing this perspective. What trip! How long have you been transitioning?
I have a dear friend who spent many years trapped in a boy’s body. When she was in her late twenties, she began transitioning to a female. I actually met her when another friend introduced her to me as her new girlfriend. I had no idea. My friend was quite pleased that she passed – she hadn’t been out as a woman very long. I remember the first time I noticed her boobs were growing. I had to touch them and tell her how great they were. I may or may not have been heavily intoxicated at the time.
I don’t really hate my body. Truly. It is what it is. But, it’s like Will said above, “As for the human body should be celebrated, well, sure. But that doesn’t mean some enhancement here and there doesn’t contribute to the spirit of celebration.” Would perky C-cups cause celebration? I don’t know. Maybe?
And by “What trip!” I, of course, mean “What a trip!” It would have had more pizazz had I written it right the first time.
You can log in to WordPress and edit the comments on your posts. Just your own, though; can’t do it for other people’s.
Oh. Thanks, Matt. I appreciate the guidance!
Congratulations Gloria.
I am late to the party, but I will echo some other comments just the same:
I love boobies. Big, Small, Perky, squishy, it really doesn’t matter. Also, as someone who has test-driven a few sets of auqmented breasts, I don’t like them. No, thats not right. I like to look at them, but given the chance to take them around the block, no thanks. Look great, feel like shit. Actually that is not quite true either. I prefer real ones, but breast are like pizza; when they are good, it is great, and when they are bad, it is still pretty damn good. Did I mention I like boobies?
BOOBIES!!!
Now drive over to Gravatar and let us see your shining, booby-loving face. Heh. That sounds dirty.
http://en.gravatar.com/
Hey Gloria!
Don’t have a whole lot to chime in with here; right now too tired, headachey and bed-bound.
But I did want to say wooooo hooooo for your first TNB post. Awesome!
Good read- I laughed, I cried… cried some more… got confused for a second with the elbow thing… then laughed again.
♥
Michelle – do the elbow thing. The confusion will end and the horror will take over. Unless you’re Tree. But then people will just wonder why you’re walking around with your arms above your head all the time.
Thanks for commenting. <3
Er, I feel a little out of place on this comment board, with about 99% of the comments so far coming from women. I’m a guy, obviously, and I’m a skinny guy so I don’t even have moobs to talk about…
But I did enjoy reading this. As much as I felt sorry for your when your son grabbed your boobs and said those awful words… It was well written.
Thanks for commenting, David! I appreciate your contribution. 🙂
I’m not upset with the boy for saying what he said. He’s still young enough that I know there was no malice intended. He really was just curious. And, of course, we had a discussion about what’s appropriate/inappropriate. But I’m pretty happy that my boys haven’t lost that childish ability to speak their mind, being totally unaware of subtle social mores and all.
Cheers!
It’s a shame when kids loser their innocence and naivety.
I told you! I told you this would be popular!
I’m pissed off with my bloody internet connection— I could barely get online yesterday!
Anyway, great debut.
Welcome to TNB!
You certainly did, my friend. Who knew boobs were so popular?? Next blog: my vagina!
Welcome!
On my own blog, I once wrote a now infamous piece on the male perspective on trying to figure out how to reconcile respecting women and being drawn to their breasts. I think just having the word ‘breast’ in the title led to it being a massive success (readership-wise) while still being offensive enough (apparently) to warrent about two hundred hating comments in my direction. I’m glad to see such positive response to yours on a topic which really does, it seems, make a woman consider her self image and her self value.
I suggest we start a donation service to the writers of TNB. We’ll keep the topic going. Give it a month. Let’s let the market decide what to do with your body (that’s for your next Tshirt).
Thanks.
@Thomas – are you suggesting breast augmentation for the entirety of the contributors to TNB? I’m for it!
Just saying, let’s see how much is donated.
By the time I got to age 60, my rack looked hand-drawn by Mad Magazine’s Don Martin (http://www.comicsreporter.com/images/uploads/completedonmartin.jpg). But the good news is I no longer give a red rat’s ass, which is yet another benefit of turning 60.
Here’s to 60, Carol! And thanks for the t-shirt. I can’t wait until you’ve sold enough that I’ve earned my free one. 🙂
Early to bed wuss says what? I missed the party, damn it. The boob party. My favorite kind.
My boobs have fared surprisingly well, considering that I ate pretty much anything that couldn’t outrun me while pregnant. During pregnancy, they led me down the Bra Alphabet to a DD, then an F, but once the breastfeeding was done, they went back to the 34C size they have been since I was twelve. I rarely wear a bra (I’ve never liked/worn them… they bug me) and the girls are pretty perky for their size. I can’t complain. Although now that I’ve effectively jinxed myself, I will be complaining after they suddenly drop to hip bone level next week. Get your shoulder warmed up.
That said, my breasts are really the only part of my body that hasn’t completely betrayed me since giving birth, so this may be why they remain in my good graces. They’re the only things on my post-pregnancy body I still recognize. Sigh.
The son-lifting-your-breasts story made me laugh. Oh, kids. We are a pee-with-the-door-open kind of family, but I’m slowly trying to increase the personal bubble, if only to avoid the uncomfortable questions until my son is old enough to not share the answers with his preschool teachers. (“Why are you wearing a diaper in your underwear, Mommy?”) (“Ummm… for fun? Hey, look! There’s a toy! Go get it!”)
You DO deserve a medal for breastfeeding your twins until they were two. Breastfeeding is hard. My gigantic son wanted to eat every two hours, so I started supplementing with the bottle/formula at six months, just so the husband could take a feeding and get me four hours of sleep in a row. I am in awe of women who make it to a year, so I think you’re pretty amazing.
But you know I already thought that. 🙂
Great post, G! I am eagerly looking forward to many more. xoxo.
Yes, the boys and I have had the menstruation conversation as well. Sometimes they’ll just up and ask me, “So, when do you start your period again?” They’re so curious. Someday they may be icked out by it (hopefully not) but right now it’s just as fascinating to them as any other biological function or any science. They love science and want to know how everything works.
Gloria, your boys are so lucky and blessed to have you. I can’t believe some of the conversations you have with them! They will thank you when they are older for being so honest with them at such young ages. Sometimes I feel I am too straight forward with Aiden. Like, I need to be more silly or something. People tell me (very seriously) that he speaks like he’s 30 or something and all I can say is that, “Poor kid. He’s trapped in a house with me all day.” They seem to understand immediately. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not but I guess time will tell. As for breast feeding twin boys until they were TWO…
You deserve a huge fucking medal!!
Wow. I go off and make a t-shirt ( http://www.zazzle.com/satisfaction_wont_buy_you_a_boob_job_tshirt-235256823888995033 ) ~ with, I might add, the minimum royalty that zazzle allows ~ and 10,000 people respond to the post in the meantime! Someone has struck a vein, that’s for sure 🙂
Any sales yet?
If only, once we hit a certain age, shape, and form, the world would turn upside down. Gravity would be our friend. A cosmic do-over, if you will.
Yeah, you know, in some ways it’s like the world does turn upside down when you hit a certain age – just not in the way you mean. LOL
My friend’s four-year old recently said to her, “Mum, you’ve got very long breasts, haven’t you?”
She simply replied, “Your fault.”
HA! That cracks me up. Excellent response.
First I would like to say I hate fake boobs. Their nasty if I wanted to play with water filled baggies I would buy balloons and have a blast (at times I do.) Second the aging body is a beautiful thing to some people (me, but it should be beautiful to everyone.) However it all comes down to personal happiness. If you’re not happy with the way your body ages. Then you have your options.
I have to say Gloria that this is a most excellent blog. Can’t wait for your next one. It’s always fun to see what goes on in the minds of others.
I assume you are male? If so, I love your attitude, Mr Brewster.
I love your attitude too, H.N. Brewster. *swoons*
Thanks, Nathan, for taking a little walk around my brain for a few.
I’m in big trouble when C cups are considered small.
And I want to know when you’re going to let your son out of the basement for what he said.
My son got a pass on that one. However, should it happen again…
Having been cursed by the D triplets, I’ve no shame in admitting that I currently have a Floppy Fund, so named because I want Floppy gone!
While my knees may stay warm in winter, my shoulders and back nag me in Peg Bundy-like fashion without pause. My wallet is in a constant state of turmoil and may have to go on Prozac should I spend anything else on support for the girls.
Yes, the next bra I purchase will be a Laser Bra, and I’ve no shame in shelling out 5 grand for it.
Oooh. Tonight, I must research this “laser bra” business.
Ah Daughter from another Universe…You’ve outdone yourself again, this time, in primetime TNB fashion. Congrats. xo 🙂
I have always been big breasted. They started sagging a little at about 20, and now after two kids and several more years of life, they have gone waayyy south. I still love them, because they fed my babies well, and to date, contain healthy tissue, (which I hope remains to be true til I’m ninety or so.)
I learned a few years back to stop caring that I wasn’t perfect any longer, and celebrate what my body does for me, and it very works hard to keep me going. It’s only gonna get worse from here, so spending money on fake boobies does not even enter the picture. Not only will we have sagging boobs, but wrinkly necks and faces and hands…so celebrate the good the body has done for ya! By the time we are all as old as the cute old people in the chorus “Young at Heart” (saw a documentary on them last night), we’ll count the days without pain/sickness/death as blessings instead of perky boobs.
I love your attitude too, Laura! So well said. *swoons again*
Yes, Tawni. I love Laura’s attitude as well. I told her recently that she has the highest emotional IQ of anyone I know. 🙂
I saw many old boobs as a young man (doing fieldwork in a place where women didn’t wear tops). My dearest village woman friend had a seriously mismatched pair, those of the old women were pancake-flat, those of the nursing women were usually very large as they did their jobs, and so on. I got used to it quickly and I think it changed my attitude.
I can still admire beautiful breasts (who can’t?) but if they aren’t, it’s of no importance.
Trust me, TNB women, when you’re drawing Social Security and in bed with somebody you love, those boobs-that-aren’t-even-close-to-what-they-used-to-be aren’t going to turn off your guy, provided everything else is working. Mostly meaning emotional attachment and lovemaking skill which, the last I heard, has little to nothing to do with boobs.
Now as for the elbow thing. I just tried it and it revealed a grossly large belly. Time to do something about it.
Thanks for the thoughtful comments, Don. I appreciate them.
Also, I’m fascinated (and a little relieved) to hear that the elbow thing doesn’t work for men either. Now it’s not a woman thing but just a…well…thing.
Cheers.
I forgot to welcome you to TNB.
Welcome!
This put me in mind of something I read (long ago) about Hemingway and maybe Fitzgerald, in which the issue was whether you could see your dick if you stood up and looked down. If not, it meant it was seriously short, and somebody in the Paris crowd was complaining that he couldn’t. Somebody else (is this all vague enough?) said, It depends on how big your belly is. Or something like that.
Told you this would work.
Personally, I don’t care for boob jobs, but I think that’s because too many women who have perfectly lovely breasts go and get them anyway, trying to conform to some percieved standard of beauty. There’s an entire industry built on selling women the idea that their natural bodies are automatically flawed, and can only be improved by surgery, diet fads, etc., and it sickens me. Purely elective surgery, instead of restorative.
That said, I’ve always been more of a leg man.
*makes note to self to get leg augmentation surgery after the boobs*
Another reason to love Matt. <3
I’m with you man.
And nothing is more unattractive than vanity…
Hey Gloria–great debut. Welcome!
It’s funny–in reading through the dude comments to your post, they affirm what I’ve/we’ve heard so many times before: that women’s boob gripes are just that–women’s. Guys couldn’t care less (a boob is a boob is a boob, all that). Of course, I realize the weighty role of self-perception, self-acceptance, etc./that it’s never just about what x/y/z person thinks of us…
Thanks, Kristen. 🙂
Yes, men don’t care. And that’s wonderful. However, again, being out in the dating world doesn’t always prove that to be true. Yes, yes. If one is bothered then move on and good riddance and all of that. But people are attracted to each other physically first (in many cases). So, it’s a myth that physical desirability isn’t a consideration. I mean, ultimately it doesn’t matter and physical attraction won’t help you weather the storms of a long-term relationship. But I think knowing that it’s an initial consideration works its way into our psyches on some level. You know? At the end of the day, though, I’ll take meaningful conversation over heavy petting. Well, at the end of most days.
Totally. And good point re: the initial stage.
Also, the term “heavy petting” has always made me giggle/creeped me out. Like zoos! Hee.
I just can’t help of thinking of Carrot Top anytime someone mentions plastic surgery. Yeah – he wasn’t the best looking guy, and in the beginning he probably had something small done – but Jesus! He really doesn’t look human now.
Boob jobs are the same. Maybe your boobs aren’t living up to the potential you had hoped for them – so you go get the fixed. But then what will be next? And what if you get a bad job and they look worse or hurt all the time?
Gloria you are a good friend of mine & your boobs are fabulous! I think that if you won the lottery, the girls would much rather go on a trip to Europe – will you take mine too?
Congrats on the debut!
That’s a good point. Tara Reid is in this months issue of Playboy, heavily airbrushed to cover all the bits of plastic surgery gone horribly wrong. It just looks bad.
You know, Jules, I’ve been thinking about this response for several days and I say this: yes, plastic surgery can be taken to an extreme level, but so can anything. I don’t think that if I got breast implants I would quickly become the cat lady. It’s like tattoos. I have many. And I’ve got a half-sleeve planned for when I’ve got the extra cash (just one more thing delaying said boob job.) But I’ll never be one of the people with tattoos covering her face and every bit of skin in between. If I got breast implants, I’m certain I would find a logical stopping place. If the smile/smoking lines on my mouth turn me into Droopy Dog like some of the other people I’m related too, I might consider getting that worked on. Again, it’s a matter of money right now, but if it ever became an actual potential reality, there would probably be other factors as well. I don’t think I’m really at risk of going overboard.
On another note, I’ve thought about having anything done to my face and I think it would make me kind of sad. I look like a clone of my grandma at my age. I look like my mom would have looked had life not taken her down like a wounded gazelle a long time ago. This face that I have is my induction into The Strong, Funny Lady club. I don’t think I’d want to get rid of it.
I know I promised to take my serious brain out of the jar for this ,but as I pulled it down from the shelf it slipped ! Now I’ve a floor covered in broken glass ,formaldehyde and my “good” brain =/
The only thing holding up my DD s these days is my large round belly =[
Sometimes known as my third breast .Under-wire is just not up to the task. I usually stand a better chance of being stabbed in the chin or the armpit by those when they fail. 8-(
So screw that noise and ……..
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dgY8cWbjkKw
If you do somehow fall into the Money, you can have then lifted and perk-afied 😉 without the artificial addition of saline/silicon baggies =)
XOXOXO
Hi Mary!
I’ll have to watch the Youtube video later. I’ve promised the boys I’m going to do a few quick replies and then step away from the computer until after they’re asleep.
After reading all of these posts, i’m going with perkified or nothing. If Duke (et al) say that the dominant theory is real is better, then who am I to question that?
Holy moly, if dollars were stories I wrote about my boobs after my son was born, I’d be a bazillionaire! I couldn’t believe how many damned things I had to say about boobs after he was born, none of them particularly flattering, none of them slightly erotic.
I’m just glad mine were too damned small to take a terrible hit visually–though they too are not nearly as satisfying on any firmness scale anymore. But we could swap that boon out for my gut which has never been the same. Oh, weary child-bearing!
I just try to remind myself that they’re badges of honor in the battlefield of life.
If I had one dollar for each of the number of times I’ve said just the word boobs since the boys were born, I’d buy a small island in the tropics.
Yes, badges of honor. I agree.
Okay. This is weird…
After Greg posted ‘Eponymous’ a discussion about The Tempest turned up on the comment boards. Later I went downstairs and my housemate was reading The Tempest.
Just been downstairs. Same housemate just got a load of information about the breast enhancement she plans to get in the summer…
I think the internet is stalking you, Irwin. Sleep with one eye open, my friend.
Welcome!
I’m lucky in that because i’m naturally so small chested (try: the shape of a 12 year old boy) my boobs don’t really have too far to fall!!
Hi Zara! Thanks for the welcome. 🙂 I love that I’ve gotten to discuss cup size with many of the women I’ve been reading on TNB all this time. It’s made my day.
Hi, G! Wonderful debut!!!
My step-mother and step-sister are/were well-endowed. I was not. I was the first girl in the 5th grade to get a bra, but that was it. They sprouted, and then they were done. I wore triple A cups (because “a girl wears a bra!” said my grandmother) until i had my son. Pregnancy filled them out to a C, and nursing him for 2 years must have made them decide they liked that size. After i was done breast-feeding, i was terrified of what was going to happen. I recall my step-mother’s comment when i was a teen: “Women with large breasts will always have large breasts, before and after having children. Women with small breasts will get bigger breasts, and then they will shrink again and look like fried eggs hanging on hooks.” EEK!
Fortunately, she was wrong. As i near 40, i am very pleased that my “girls” have stayed relatively perky. And stayed C cups, too! They are a small-ish C, and bras are very optional, but boy! when i strap one on, i am amazed at how high and full my breasts become, at how flattering certain blouses can be. Aging is aging is aging.
Oh, and on the augmentation topic… I worked in the sex industry while in college, small tits and all. I danced on stage before and after dancers with “bubble boobs” and still managed to pay 75% of my college tuition while in school. I can definitely attest to the fact that all sizes are OK, all body types can be seen as sexy, and all tastes deserve to be indulged.
“fried eggs hanging on hooks” I almost did a spit take. I already feel better about my boobs, just with that mental picture!
In college, I was a bartender on a club strip in Houston with a lot of gentleman’s clubs nearby. (Everywhere in Houston has a lot of gentleman’s clubs nearby, but I digress…) Anywhoo, I knew a lot of women in the sex industry, and the majority of them had gotten a boob job. Good on you for not electing to go that route. Some of the women I knew had real problems with infections and stuff. Groupthink seemed to dictate that these women felt they had to get augmentation to be competitive in the industry and make more money. I respect anyone’s personal choice, but that attitude always made me feel a little sad. I mean, these women were gorgeous already.
The bra is the first thing I take off when i get home, and the girls look just fine to the casual observer when they’re all trussed up and contained, but I have become self-conscious about going bra-less even in a casual setting. The lack of perkiness (and now fear of the hanging-fried-egg syndrome) is one factor; the other being a certain, oh shall we say temperature sensitivity that has gotten more pronounced after childbearing and breastfeeding. I could put an eye out, people. They’re like weapons.
Mine are like wall-eyed weapons.
I have a friend who worked in strip clubs who is cute, but definitely doesn’t have the stereotypical stripper body – she’s had babies and everything! She said that strip club stages have black lights, which take away all manner of flaws. I’ve considered installing black lights in my bedroom, but might have a hard time explaining why I’ve done this to the boys. I suppose I could just tell them I’m taking acid, that would cause them less trauma.
Way to go Glo! If I had been drinking milk while reading your blog, it would have shot out my nose several times! (Which reminds me of the deep question: when a cow laughs, does milk come out her nose??)
Being a womanizer (in the purely positive sense that I like women), I can honestly say I’ve never met a breast I didn’t like, though I’ve met several boobs I didn’t. Breasts are Fun! (That’s my t-shirt) For him and her! I’ve always believed they are the gateway to a happy(er) ending. Size, shape, length, it don’t mattah, I’m just happy to be there…!!
Am I a Pig? Or am I just being honest…Well, at least I’m an Honest Pig. And pigs have TEN nipples…Booyah!
You’re a great writer, Gloria, and I look forward to reading all your creations…
Stuart!!!
Hello Stuart.
I will now quote you a bit from the seminal 1980’s film Stripes: “The name’s Francis Soyer, but everybody calls me Psycho. Any of you guys call me Francis, and I’ll kill you.”
So, basically, what I’m trying to say is, if you call me Glo on here again, you’re going down. 🙂
BOOBIES!!!
Oh, and your shirt gets to say “Ten Nippled Pig”
🙂
Also to Gravatar with ya!!
http://www.gravatar.com/
Gloria, you brilliant, shining bitch, you! I love and respect you so much, one of these days I’m going to have to break down and kidnap you and just keep you chained up in the basement. I know forcible imprisonment is generally frowned upon, but then I could have your witticisms all to myself.
So proud of you!
Are you going to break my knees and tell me to shut my cockadoody mouth?
Also, go grab yourself a profile from Gravatar. House rules. http://en.gravatar.com/
Though, I can see how your plan will play out better if you don’t reveal what you look like. Even though you did use your real name.
With all due respect to one thread of this dialogue above, it’s not true that a boob is a boob where men are concerned. There are decided preferences, but most of us fortunately realize that fantasy is one thing and reality another. Nobody is perfect, in other words, and who ends up with someone who’s precisely our type, in body shape or otherwise?
Also, my friends are overwhelmingly guys, and I’ve never heard one of them express admiration for boob jobs. In fact, they’re a turnoff.
I’m glad that you’re now a TNB contributor, Gloria. It’s about time!
That “our” [type] should have been “his,” to edit after the fact.
I forgive you the number disagreement. My friend emailed me today to tell me that I was missing an entire (glaringly obvious) word from this post – and I never would have caught it.
I’m the king of missing words. I had a few pointed out to me after my last post. I’m apparently blind.
I was editing my novel today.
It’s amazing how many sentences ended a word short, sometimes two.
It’s faster to think words than it is to type them…
@Irwin – I type 80 words a minute. However, I’d wager to guess that I think about a thousand words a minute. Sometimes I find typing quite satisfying because it requires that I slow down and think about what I’m thinking. If that makes any sense.
“…who ends up with someone who’s precisely our type, in body shape or otherwise?”
My friend, the majority of the time, I’m not even sure that this person exists. He is like a unicorn. Lately, I’ve just been trying to big picture it. Does he have a job? Does he have ears? Can we communicate in the same language? If not, can I get the gist of most of what he’s saying based on grunts and gesticulations? Has he ever been convicted of a felony? Yes? Oh…was it violent? Can he make me laugh?
I joke about the rest, but the last one actually is a requirement. I’m flexible with much of the rest.
And thank you for the welcome, Duke. It’s a pleasure to be here.
I may have mentioned this before, but at least when it comes to women, I’ve always held that there are two preference “types”: You’re either a Luke Skywalker girl or a Han Solo girl.
I was always, my whole life, a Skywalker girl. My guts told me a skinny, blonde-haired, blue-eyed sensitive type was for me. And then? The “one” for me ended up being a Solo. Barrel-chested, black-haired, brown-eyed manly man.
“frankly speaking, I’ve come to the conclusion that my guts have shit for brains.”
Han Solo!!!
Luke Skywalker was kind of a whiny baby.
Flexibility was the word on the tip of my tongue (metaphorically speaking) when posting initially. I think most of us end up become more and more flexible with time, at least in the mating department. In other ways, maybe not so much, wishing for more peace and comfort.
I can relate to all things boob.
I’ve never wanted them bigger, just smaller, because
I always felt like they got in the way. And after two kids and years of breastfeeding – I guess they’re still the same – big. But all in all, I like them. I have the big boob gene – every woman on both sides of my family has them. So, I think it’s safe to say that so will my daughter. Though, Greg likes to point out that not one woman in his family has the big boob gene. But I feel like you can’t be born to me and have small boobs, it’s just not possible.
And I laughed out loud (i guess that would be lol?) about your son walking in on you getting dressed and making his comment. I had once asked my sister in law, “When do we stop being naked around our sons?” And she said,”You’ll know. They’ll start to look at you funny.” Well, that happened a few months ago when I was getting dressed, and Dominick (our five year old) walked in and he was transfixed and started yelling,”Boobies!!!” and proceeded to feel me up – and not in the sweet toddler/baby way of yonder year. So, now I get dressed with the door closed and locked!
Sorry so late to the game, Gloria – but great piece and congrats on your first one!
And hats off to you for having twins and nursing them – you’d have to have a family bed,
it’s the only way you’d get any sleep!
Hi Stephanie!
I’ve been meaning to dish with you. Greg said recently that you’re a Red Tent fan. This will, indeed, be one more thing we can talk about in your jumpy chateau.
You are so right about the family bed – it was necessary. More than committing to sleeping together, I was committed to breastfeeding as long as possible. And yes, this necessitated sleeping together. I have no idea how I would have gotten any sleep otherwise.
Thanks for the congrats. 🙂
hi gloria! love your story and the comments … i’ll be my usual tmi self and be the first here (i think) to admit to having had breast reduction surgery and i’ll tell you, guys who have not seen them (which i’d like to go on record as saying is the vast majority) — are horrified! no complaints from the (hypothetical, of course) men who have seen them … AND they have scars. And they are losing some of the complimentary perkiness thrown in with the surgery. AND i haven’t had a child and have hit a point where it’s unlikely, which makes me terribly sad. AND, as most of the male commenters have said, they just like boobies!
Without exception, i have never met a guy who likes/prefers fake boobs. a friend of mine got them and i poked one and it felt like a superball. the conclusion i’ve drawn from my informal research is that, yeah, some guys are initially attracted by the boobs, but (sorry if this sounds trite) they stick around for the person attached to them, especially if you respect and love them, yourself! all i can say to everyone here with boobs, or who loves boobs, is love them!! (and, gloria, if you win the lottery, buy yourself some gorgeous la perla bras and take us all out for drinks!)
“Without exception, i have never met a guy who likes/prefers fake boobs.”
You know what? Me either. Okay, I take that back – I’ve met one. He’s a friend of a friend. He’s a Match.com junkie – it’s one of his screening questions. Other than him, though, I’ve heard about how pretty they are to look at and how foreign they are to touch. Curious, isn’t it, that I (and others) still think about it, even with this knowledge. I think it’s one of those things you think about when it’s not really a possibility. Like, I’ve always imagined that if I win a million zillion dollars I will custom build a house with all kinds of hidden passages and chutes and slides that you can ride from one floor to the other. I’ve had this fantasy in my head since I was a kid and I saw Swiss Family Robinson. But I’m willing to bet I wouldn’t actually do that, either, if I had the money.
It’s about what perky boobs represent that causes the thought to keep coming back. No, youth, no! Don’t go! Don’t leave! I think that’s the real emotion behind the impulse. I have The Desiderata hanging on my wall, which I love and read often. The first line says, “Go placidly amid the noise and haste…” I haven’t quite gotten the hang of that one yet.
Thank you so much for your thoughts, Lauren. I appreciate it.
I started to write a comment when my son (milk vampire #3) woke up demanding to be fed. Sitting in the dark with him latched onto me, draining me back down to a B from a C, I got a chance to think a little more about your hilarious post. Will I get a boob job when all this child rearin’ is through (money willing, of course)? I have to say, I very seriously doubt it. Somebody asked me the other day what my favorite part of my body is. Now, I may very well have been sitting next to you in that “Nearly Feminist Studies” major of yours, but I bloody well couldn’t answer the damn question. I started going through my Self piecemeal.
My boobs? Let’s just get that one out of the way. Survey says? X!
My legs? Definitely not. My legs are never tan or toned quite enough – and my knees are dry.
My neck and chest? Speckled with little moles.
My butt? Flat. And starting to sag.
My tummy? Did I mention I’ve had 3 kids? Sit ups every day, sistah. Sit ups every day.
Then I started getting mad. I don’t think of myself as shallow, and yet – here I was not happy with a single part of me. Shallow? Like a kiddie pool.
Not my hands – looking old and my cuticles don’t stay nice.
Not my arms – too hairy. Also I have broad shoulders and thick upper arms thanks to a kickboxing run.
Not my face – my skin is blotchy and I have sarcasm wrinkles on my forehead.
My FUCKING FEET? Oh how I hate my callused, square feet.
I could go on and on, but really I think this comment is long enough. You get the point. Why the hell should I get a boob job when it’s only one of many other parts of me that I’m not happy with? On me, it would look, well, ridiculous. At the very least, at least all my other parts go together. They match.
And for that, I will have to choose contentment.
Welcome to the Breakdown, Gloria.
Erika – your comment cracked me the hell up. “Shallow? Like a kiddie pool.” Ha!
I don’t really have a litany of parts that I’m worried about, oddly enough. I think I did for a long time, but I just had to make peace with it. I’ve had four kids – I have a (pregnant and married) 17-year-old daughter (who I had when I was 16) and there was another baby that I put up for adoption when I was 20. I’ve been in a multi-fatality car accident that crushed my leg and my head and caused all manner of abdominal surgery and other shenanigans. And on, and on. What’s odd – and pretty frickin’ amazing – is that the rest of me has held up fairly well. And even my boobs aren’t so bad, I suppose. I, too, choose contentment. It’s the easiest, least painful, and least expensive way to go. 🙂
Thank you for the welcome. I’m thrilled to be here.
Girl, you’ve been through it.
That’s just it – I’m not really “worried” about all these parts. I don’t sit around fretting about the dead skin on my elbows. But then that person had to ask me that question and I realized all this self-loathing I’ve been harboring. My favorite part? My, um, pancreas? I’ve never seen it or had trouble from it…so how can I be critical of it? I’ll be signing up next week for one of those new agey self love classes my fellow Boulderites are so fond of hosting.
I have a fine pancreas.
Also, I’m not really the type who addresses her girlfriends as “girl”, so this was really fun for me.
You also appear to have an adorable nose. And nice, big, round, symmetrical eyes. These, paired with your pancreas, are a great trifecta.
Oh good lord.
I’m WAY too exhausted to comment on this properly, so what I’ll say is this. I don’t think anyone has had a TNB debut with as many comments since Irene Zion.
And that, my friend, is one hell of a way to start!!
Welcome to *our* inner bubble, Gloria!
Thanks, Kimberly! I’m totally stoked to be a part of this circle.
Also, in case I’ve never mentioned it, I love your red hair.
Cheers!
Wow, Gloria, I didn’t realise this was your first post! Kudos on both a great write and a great response.
Our impression of ourselves is such a strange thing, and it can be such a monkey on our backs sometimes. That being said, I’m totally going to go check my breasts in the mirror.
And? And? I’m dying to know the results of your mirror check.
Me too!
Man, way to leave us hanging…
😉
I’m doing OK for perkiness. I think I may have to do some pushups this weekend, however.
Nice
8)
[…] 6. Satisfaction Won’t Buy You a Boob Job, Gloria Harrison […]
Seems I scrolled for a long
time before I saw any male comments
which kinda made me sad
because we are all so
discontent
My rabbi told me once
in that rabbi sorta way
that the path to riches
was to love all
that you already had.
I am so poor.
JMB – I’m sorry it took me so many days to respond to your comment. I was loving all that I already had: namely my children. I am sure you are not so poor as you feel. I see that your responses to all posts are in verse, or, at least, contain well-thought-out line breaks. Is it your preference that you are responded to thusly? (Yes, I just said “thusly.”) Thanks for you comments. 🙂
Great first post, Gloria!
It was a singular moment of horror going on a first date with a girl I was very fond of only to discover, uncover, and be obliged to pose the question I knew not how to frame—“Umm, not sure how to put this, have you had some surgery?”
I wonder if men with penile “enhancement” ever get asked this. What does “work done” look like that in that regard?
All I noticed on my end was something that felt an awful lot like a cross between a grapefruit and a softball. It was rather disconcerting…
How did she respond?
Let me ask you this: Would you, personally, rather date a girl with a beautiful rack that isn’t so “natural” to touch, or would you rather date a girl with a mediocre-to-average rack that feels like God made boobs to feel? Remember now: this is a scientific survey. Your answer will be recorded for posterity.
She said she appreciated it was a delicate question. Which utterly murdered and mutilated the moment but there we were. They weren’t egregious implants, which, in a manner, made them more sinister given the circumstances.
As for your question, breasts are pretty low on my list of what turn me on about a girl. Implants turn me off almost as much as heels. So, obviously, you shouldn’t include me in your survey. I like tan lines too so I’m doubly removed from consideration.
A woman’s ass on the other hand is of paramount importance. Her walk is there. Rhythm. Balance. Attitude. Size of no important, but shape and character are.
Now I say all this being recently married to a natural DD on a petite body. But I swear, I fell for her on the page before I knew her bra-size…
Yeah. Every one is different. I get that.
Two of my dearest friends met online. He fell in love with her written word and singing voice long before they ever met. And she’s stunning, but he didn’t know that. (Even though she had a profile picture – which, as we all know, says nothing about what a person actually looks like.)
Congratulations on your recent nuptials! That’s great! 🙂
That’s funny cause the older I get, the more my man boobs develop. Should I eat less chicken?
Congrats. I hated when my boobs got big from pregnancy. Now I just wear an ace bandage.
JK.
I don’t mind my boobs at all. I wouldn’t augment them. I might lift them. You know a cute little incision in the armpit and pull, attach = perky. Except the nipples look like runny eggs.
Can’t win.
XO
[…] And yes, those are real. […]
Oh, how did I miss this little nugget the first time around? So well played, G.
In the end, boobs are just like anything else. Something someone is trying to sell you. Thank Yahweh you live in Portland where looking like the latest pin-up isn’t as important as it is just about everywhere else.
Art
Its the same account with celebreties generally getting too much plastic surgery, I wish they could go for a more natural look.
Method for Bigger Breasts…
[…]Satisfaction Won’t Buy You a Boob Job | The Nervous Breakdown[…]…