There should be no misconceptions on why they are needed, right? Everybody knows they are feeding machines with nice round shape and perfect for carrying extra weight with you. Then why are women, who seem to have none, so eager to get that extra weight and think it will make them prettier as they go? You’ll get them! Just have a baby and be happy. No need for the gel bags in your body. And if you don’t have them – be lucky. Getting that extra weight isn’t so glamour as it looks, especially at nights when you get the ugly realization that there is no nice position to finish your very needed sleep.
I’m not starting the echo here of all the nice articles on Breast Size Is NOT A Characterization. I fear if you read any of those nice character creation books or anything on first impression, you get the startling realization – they actually are… Just think about meeting a woman, any woman or watch them on the street. What are the first thought that creeps in? She has virgin boobs. How do you know that? She has shaggy boobs, so she must have had some kids. Over-eaten boobs, open on the market… Shall we continue?
I’ve heard this pretty rude comment once: “If the breast ain’t showing, the book ain’t selling.” I still wish I’d remember, who said it, but leaving the rudeness aside, it really is stating the obvious – the heroine should be attractive, especially in the comic books. What else is so outstanding part in our body that isn’t worth a holiday of its own? Who would read an unending saga of a woman, who is flat in front and hollow on the back. No one, not even me.
About the hollow – if you have big in front, have something to balance her out. Imagine the mountain in front, bay on the back figure and then think if she isn’t using you to balance herself so she wouldn’t fall over. If it’s hills in front, then hill’s on back, ’cause remember – Earth is round and what goes, must come back (get it?).
The most hilarious thing related to boobs to me is watching men trying to figure out the size of the real women. Just imagine this: six men, all in their 40s, snipping on beers and commenting on every passing lady “…no, this can’t be D – the Superwoman was D.” Harsh truth from this daily scene would be – our beloved manhood has more clues on comic books than what real woman is all about. Should I be happy or sad? My double E is so often downsized to D and I can only thank heavens they aren’t the ones buying my lingerie.
“…sooo, then I was standing there and he was all talking normal and suddenly his eyes went big and his stare fell on me boobs and I was, like, whaaa? What a freak! And I was already taking my swing when he suddenly cleared his throat and said… “There’s a mosquito drinking from your boobs!”…”
Imagine that hero, who took up the courage to mention something like that to the girl he only knew for few weeks – I salute you, my unknown hero!