I’m not sure how to write about the boob thing. But the boob thing is both pissing me off and making me sad. I understand why women want boob jobs. I do. I totally get it. Boobs define us. Boobs are female. Females are boobs. As little girls, boobs took up a huge amount of our thinking when we were without them and a huge amount of thinking in the neighbor boys after we got them.
Before internet porn, cable TV porn, and porn accessible on a telephone any time anywhere made it necessary to show everything beyond the bush, there was boobs. They were idolized, revered, written about, photographed, filmed and in general loved. Boobs are more than boobs, they’re love and desire and power.
I’m pissed off about boobs after spending today with a friend who got a boob job. A beautiful fifty four year old woman with some of the best DNA on the planet. No joke. She looks thirty five without trying. Still dewy skin, Pantene Pro V hair, virtually no wrinkles and the body of a teenager. A teenager from the seventies. Before the country got fat.
In the surgery center most of the female employees had boob jobs. The nurse was providing personal experiences as to pain and recovery. They told us that usually “older women do better with the pain than the eighteen year olds who haven’t had any real life experiences yet”. Eighteen year olds? Getting boob jobs? WHAT.THE.FUCK?! I say fuck a lot when I’m mad.
I’m mad that women’s boobs just aren’t good enough anymore. That the beauty seen in girlie magazines from the 1950’s through at least the 1980’s has disappeared. Those women had all types of boobs: big, small, pointed, not pointed, light colored nipples, almost no nipples, and dark nipples. In this millennium we’re turning women into cartoons. Live versions of Barbie or Jessica Rabbit.
What pisses me off the most is that women think they’re the driving force behind the phenomena. They’ve convinced themselves that they really want to pay thousands of dollars (plus interest on the credit card), take a physical risk, spend weeks or months recovering and live with a foreign object in their body. One that makes it more difficult to spot breast cancer on a mammogram and has the potential to cause a variety of problems in the future. They will tell you “It makes me like my body better, gives me more confidence”.
What makes me sad is the truth. The truth is no woman anywhere would do this to herself if she didn’t think it was necessary to make a man want her. When did that happen? When did regular every day beautiful boobs go out of style?
I guess about the same time regular every day women went out of style.