A Post For Harvey

I was in my supermarket today checking out and I couldn’t help but notice the magazine and tabloid headlines. Even if you don’t buy them, you can’t help but notice them. Newsweek had something like, “Searching for Kerry’s Character.” Please. Everyone has known the man was going to get the Dem nomination for how long now? We have 3 months left to the election and we’re still searching for his character? My reply to that is, “Good luck. When you find it, it’s lying next to Jimmy Hoffa.”

Ahhh… but that is not what this post is really about.

A tabloid had something like “Dolly Parton’s Breasts are Killing Her” Now THAT is what this is really about. Breasts. Which is why it’s in Harvey’s honor. Harvey the ultimate Mammary Man!

In reading this headline I thought, “How is that? When she sleeps on her back, do her boobs press upwards closing off her nostrils, restricting airflow? Or do they lay upward against her throat, cutting off all oxygen?” I mean, how in the world do breasts kill you? (Other than the very serious topic of Breast Cancer, which is nothing to joke about.) They may smother a partner… but the owner? I don’t see it. But that led me down this long train of thought… Women really spend a lot of time dealing with their breasts. It’s a sex thing, a nurturing thing, a part of us, American society doesn’t want to see too much of them naked, but the more they bulge out of t-shirts the better. Just look at the latest tight fashions. And a lot of women really aren’t happy with what they have, at least not down here in S. FL.

I spoke to a plastic surgeon once (he was a friend of a friends, I wasn’t consulting one for anything… I’m all real) and was quizzing him on why women have breast surgery. He said his happiest patients are the ones who get breast reductions. I didn’t understand that really until a woman I know told me this story. She is past child bearing years, and way way over a D cup. She was sitting on the couch, T-shirt, no bra, her significant other sat down beside her and… She screamed! In pain! He had sat on her nipple! Yes, gravity takes effect and if you are well endowed, well, that is more sagging. Needless to say, she got a breast reduction and is very very happy. No kidding. I would be too.

I’m not a well endowed woman. I’m a B cup. 32B to be exact. And I like ‘em that way and would even be happy with a 32A since that would probably preclude me from EVER having to wear a bra, not even when I run. I hate those things. So I can’t imagine not being able to go braless for fear someone would sit on my nipple.

Women are very proud when they get augmentation or reduction. I do not know a woman yet, that hasn’t had breast implants and hasn’t taken all her girlfriends in a back room to ‘show them off’. YEEAAIII!!!. Thankfully, I have not been privy to the viewing parties. They don’t want me there. First of all, to know me is to know that unless you are a damn good friend, I can come off as unapproachable and I’m definitely not a boobie show and tell kinda gal. And, I am too scientific. All the other girls say, “Oooh!!! Look how pretty they are! They’re so perky! Oh they’re just the right size.” I’d be saying, “So exactly where did they cut you? Have you lost all nipple sensation? How long were you under? Did you vomit from the anesthesia?” I don’t care about the breasts, the process is interesting. And I am not lying when I say these women let other women feel them too. I can honestly say, I have never felt another woman’s breasts, fake or real. And I intend to keep it that way. I’ll leave it to you men. That’s your job, in my book.