Boobies, boobies, everywhere

So I’ve been noticing breasts a lot lately. Other women’s breasts, that is.

Um, maybe I should mention this right up front, this is probably going to be another one of those posts where we talk about girlie stuff. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. But those of you both with and without a penis proved yourselves worthy last time, so we’ll see if we can keep up a decent level of decorum around here.

(Ya, and like you’re not going to keep reading after that first line, right? It’s called a hook, baby, and you’re hooked!)

So, as I was saying, I’ve been noticing other women’s breasts. It has a lot to do with that support thing I was mentioning before. Just like in a restaurant, when you take a look around to see what everybody else is eating to find out what looks good, I like to check out breasts to see how well they are being kept from hanging. Dangling. You know what I mean.

I was at a business meeting a couple of weeks ago, and the woman chairing the meeting had pretty decent sized ta-tas, but she was wearing this tight little white T-shirt under a jacket in that terrific lime green colour that’s everywhere right now, and she looked just fabulous. Her bra gave her so much support, but she didn’t have that “torpedo boob” thing going on that most extra-support bras create. I really really wanted to ask her what kind of bra she was wearing and where could I get one, but she’s a relatively high-ranking and important client, and I managed to rethink the propriety of asking lingerie questions at our first meeting – with ten or a dozen other people in the room.

And then last night, since Lost! was a repeat (what a great show that is, eh?) I made the serious tactical error of watching Will and Grace instead. Not that that’s a tactical error in itself, because man that’s one funny show. The problem is that it ended and I was too sucked into the idiot box to change the channel before Stacked came on. Surely you’ve heard about it, the sophisticated new comedy starring Pamela Anderson’s boobs.

Okay, so I’m a girl, right? And I’ve got breasts of my own, and have no real boobie-envy whatsoever, and would really like to have less instead of more boobs in my life. Except for the full half-hour, I found myself unable to take my eyes off them. THEM. They’re HUGE! And so so so — so unnatural looking. Granted, I didn’t get the whole perfume thing either, but why would somebody do this to themselves? (Answer: to get a Fox sitcom. Begets question: why would anybody do that to themselves, either?)

So anyway, I really have no point whatsoever here, but I thought in the interest of disclosure that you might need to know that I’m spending an inordinate amount of synaptic energy on breasts lately. That’s not too weird, is it?

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