The View from a Drawbridge

Guys, I’ve no doubt that your search engines directed you here and you had high hopes, but move along. There’s nothing to see. This is going to be a frank and unsexual discussion about living with the human mammary gland.

Ladies, we all know that the day to day possession of breasts is not particularly glamorous. They’re there. They make your seatbelt choke your neck. They are often elbowed in elevators. They cause you to lose eye contact with tactless men. And there’s a reason that models tend to have flat chests. Most clothes just do not look good with too much topography.

And I have a theory that the mammogram was invented by a man to torture women. This very necessary test is an unpleasant inconvenience at best, and excruciatingly painful at worst. But it has to be done, because if you think mammograms are bad, try breast cancer some time.

And if you are like me and are overly well endowed, you are the envy of all your flat-chested female friends. I want to shake them. Do you really envy back, neck and shoulder pain, sagging in your later years, having to special order your bras and pay $50.00 for each one? Do you really wish you were constantly sexualized and stared at even on days when you’re not in the mood for it? If I could yank these things off and give them to you, I gladly would.

And before you get breast enhancements, please, please, PLEASE do your homework. Read up on all the horrific health implications, dangers, and complaints. Anyone who tries to tell you this is not a major, life changing surgery is delusional. And any man who tells you he will prefer you with these masses of foreign material in your chest clearly doesn’t love you for who you are, and no amount of silicone is going to change that.

This is one occasion when I’m not including a photo with my blog entry, because all those people whose search engines directed them here for all the wrong reasons do not deserve a cookie.