Chesticles

What exactly is the male obsession with a part of the female anatomy that for many of us is no big deal: Breasts.

Picture the scene:


A male traffic cop pulls a woman over for speeding or driving with her Blackberry and mascara in hand. The first two buttons of her shirt are promptly undone as she nervously waits for the official who walks slowly towards her car. He leans forward towards the open window and BAM! She introduces him to the twins. 

Why? 

Well, because they’ve seldom let her down before.

They love our boobs so much they give them names.  Boobs are becoming less of a taboo subject than they were in the past and with that, neologisms and colloquial terms have been introduced, creating a seemingly endless list: bust, bosom, breasts, assets, lady lumps, boobs, girls, twins, tits, nanas.

Some fucking bright spark even insist that the names should be size-specific. How thoughtful of them. Melons, jugs, bee-stings, mosquito-bites, titties and (my personal favourite) chesticles.  I’m assuming that that’s simply a juxtaposition with the male version which also sags, is fragile and comes in twos.

Can you imagine its introduction to the English Oxford Dictionary?

“Chesticle (n.): either one of the soft, protruding glands on a woman’s chest which secrete milk after childbirth.”

Guys, what’s with the obsession with breasts? 

Some men revere the “girls” more than others.  Evolutionary biologists suggest that it’s all a matter of fertility and genetics. They claim that, when choosing a mate, our genes help us out a little. Men like parts like boobs and butts while we’re attracted to their arms, eyes, broad shoulders and legs.

Is there an ideal cup-size?

If we could conduct a study and get as many men to participate, what would the verdict be? While the C-cup seems to come out at the top as the most popular in previous studies, it’s safer to say that it’s all a matter of taste.  Either you're a boob-man or you're not.

Many men don’t even know how the concept of cup-sizes works. Some doochenozzles describes his idea of an ideal size as “a handful” while another Pnker insisted: “They should be in proportion to the rest of her body and somewhat noticeable.”

Is there such a thing as TOO big?

One of the guys responded with a: “NO! Are you out of your frikken mind?” I’d say he is a bit of a Boob-Man though. The average bloke insists that “jugs” can be oversized.

Medically, more is definitely less. Large breasts alone may not cause back aches but they are a considerable factor. Additionally, neck and shoulder pains may develop.

Psychologists suggest that a colossal bust may result in one being self-conscious and consequently, having a lower self-esteem.

Does breast size matter?

For a larger and full bust, breast augmentation is becoming increasingly popular. Claiming that they want their women “all natural,” men may not be keen on the idea of boob-jobs. But that too can be contested - I don’t see them complaining about the largely talented Pammy Anderson.

However, the most obvious boob insecurity is the fear of sagging. So we can’t defy gravity? That’s no big deal. It’s nothing a WonderBra bra can’t solve.We all want what we can't have, right?

Just like everything else about us, no pair is the same as the next. Our chests may give us comparative advantage over our male counterparts but they shouldn’t constitute some kind of “be all and end all” to your womanhood.

(and I just realised that I wrote about titties last week too).

When Girls Drink...

 

When girls drink....

• We have no idea where our handbag is.
• We believe that dancing with our arms overhead and wiggling our bums while yelling "Woooohoo!" is truly the sexiest dance move ever!
• We suddenly decide that we want to kick someone's ass and honestly believe we could do it.
• In our last trip to pee we realise that we now look more like a Homeless Hooker than the Goddess that we were four hours ago.
• We start crying and telling everyone we see that we love them sooooo much.
• We get extremely excited and jump up and down every time a new song comes on and we yell "Oh My God, its my song!  I looooove this song".
• We find a deeper, spiritual side to the geek sitting next to us.
• We feel the need to flash our tits.
• We suddenly take up smoking and we are very good at it.
• We accuse the bartender of diddling us because we believe he's serving us lemonade but its just that we can no longer taste the gin.
• We think we are in bed but we've been curled up on the kitchen floor for ages using a mop as a pillow with our skirt hiked up to our waist.
• We fail to notice that the toilet seat is down.
• We take our shoes off because we feel that it is their fault we're having trouble walking straight.
• We get louder and louder as the evening progresses and don't feel that the alcohol is affecting us at all.  "I'm fiiiinnne!"

Whenever someone asks me if I want water with my Whiskey, 

I say I'm fucking thirsty, not dirty!