WHAT is it about women with fake breasts? They always seem to have them on display, either popping out of low cut tops or in bikini tops that barely cover the nipples.
I’ve decided it’s because the breasts are fake and so they don’t really associate them as part of their body. It’s something they’ve bought and paid for and now proudly show off, the way you would a new piece of jewellery. After all, aren’t breasts two of women’s most prized ornaments?
Thankfully, I have a sufficiently sized pair of my own and particularly after watching Nip/Tuck have no intention of going under the knife. Thankful or not, however, I’ve noticed that having breasts is a man magnet. I mean, what is it about men who just seem to lunge for them? Seriously, five minutes into kissing and they’re all over them. It’s so predictable and a tad irksome. I think the next man I’ll fall for is one who doesn’t have roaming hands or who at least had sufficient breast during infancy not to need mine so much.
My bust is another reason I believe I attract short men. As sure as eggs are eggs, the biggest midget in the room will make a beeline for me. I reckon it’s because he’s eye level with my breasts. I can’t decide if this type of man has had too much breast or not enough. Either way, they never succeed in getting a taste of mine. Personally, I can’t think of anything worse than someone talking to my chest. Blessedly, the older I’ve become, the less it happens. I think that probably has something to do with the fact that I don’t wear the revealing tops I used to wear in my teens. In fact, I was just thinking the other day how funny it is that over the years I’ve abandoned my former figure hugging, low cut tops and short skirts for a wardrobe more ‘demure’, so to speak. If only my parents during my turbulent teens had realised it was just a phase – it would have spared both sides a lot of heartache and screaming matches.
Back to fake breasts, though. Have you noticed that silicone women think nothing of peeling off all their clothes in a changing room and walking around starkers? I never know what to do in situations like that. Do I join in and whip off my towel to display all, or do I carry on struggling to pull on my bra and pants, towel clenched between my teeth? I usually end up feeling like a prude, and so half remove my towel in an effort to appear as relaxed and comfortable with my nakedness as them, though not quite pulling it off. It’s also really hard not to sneak admiring glances at those pert, silicone mounds because, fake or not, they look gorgeous.
In fact, come to think of it, the reason I probably don’t show off my breasts as much as my silicone counterparts, is because I don’t like them as much. Unlike their breasts, mine don’t stand to attention 24 hours a day. As for the braless look, I can forget it unless I want the world and its mother to know about it too. All these stories about wearing a good bra for support and cold showers to keep them firm are baloney. If you’re low slung, then you’re low slung.
In my teens, a friend of mine made a remark about my breasts giving me a complex for life. I didn’t point out that although perky, hers were pointed in opposite directions; one towards each armpit. Although my boyfriends have never complained, and more often than not been highly appreciative, I’ve always put that down to blind love or my ability to avoid letting them have a really good critical look i.e. standing up in broad daylight and pointing out their flaws.
If I’m to be honest, now that I’m single again, I’m terrified of the next time I’m going to be intimate with someone. I know it’s going to happen at some point, and the thought of peeling my clothes off is reason enough to keep me celibate. I’ve also decided that as old fashioned as it sounds, I want to be in love with the guy, because then, perky breasts or not, it won’t matter so much. Not because it’s not important to look good for your partner but because hopefully it’ll be more about making love – albeit shyly at first – than bedroom gymnastics that simply involve a critical assessment of the other’s body.
