Breasts

I’ll probably never be the poster girl for the feminist movement. I still use “his” or “he” in a sentence instead of “hers” or “theirs” or “its” – not that I mind those; it’s just my personal preference. And I shudder when I see combos like “his/hers” or someone tries to mix them all in: “It is every person’s right to express his views to her peers”. Please, choose one. I’m indifferent to which one you choose, but settle for just the gender – more than one pronoun and I think we’re talking about multiple people. I’m never going to be on the bandwagon to push to change our vocabulary to include “womankind” wherever there is “mankind”; I’m comfortable with “man” covering both genders. You see, I see “man” as neutral – we are a part of mankind – I don’t see it as saying “see those girls over there? They’re all penis baring she-males – true story – check out their package “mankind’ if you catch my drift, wink wink”.

Jay still opens the car door for me, pulls out my chair at restaurants and ensures all entry ways are opened as I approach them. To me, “Dutch” mistakenly refers to the people who settled in Pennsylvania back when we somehow couldn’t figure out what “Deutsch” meant. (Oh wait, this may go into the “I’m Cheap” post. Hrmm.) And to top it off, I would have never burned by bra – first, bras aren’t cheap (I am) and second, what kind of ecological footprint did that leave spewing who knows what up into the ozone – I wouldn’t set Aquanet on fire, either.

On the other hand, I do think I’m just as smart if not smarter than any “man”. I do think I should be paid equally, and get equal treatment (unless it’s a door and you can get that) and let’s face it, high heels were made for masochists who hate their feet.

We can’t get around our physical differences, though. I have breasts. Yes, I know – shocking. Granted, they’ve lost their 16 Candles perkiness and now look like something for the centerfold of a National Geographic article (I’m sure the story about the pale Anglo Saxons natives who inhabit central Texas” will be a real page turner – think geriatric Playboy). We’re talking old boobs that give directions to the area around my feet – boobs that need that bra to be un-singed so they give the appearance of being separate from my waistline and not just some amorphous torso blob. They’re really just boobs – nothing magical about them – a good percentage of the people you know have them – they come in all shapes, sizes and augmentations; they’re boobs. I have arms, too.

Where am I going with this? Well, last week I got to really meet my friend’s fiancé – a nice enough fellow – kind of a little guy (I think I’m a head taller), nervous thing, so I tried to draw him out – get him talking. I finally hit on the subject he enjoyed the most “magic” (he’s a professional magician) and he was off – he became very chatty and animated and started talking excitedly to my boobs – yes, my boobs. The guy talked to my breasts the entire time. Every time he opened his mouth, he addressed my breasts. I can’t even begin to repeat what he said to them, because I haven’t got a clue. My brain was stuck in a loop, “DUDE, you’re talking to my breasts!!! Eyes up here!”

Later, when people asked what he was like, all I could think was “he’s a breast talker!”

Now, while I may not be said poster girl for feminism, I still expect people to look me in the eyes when they’re talking to me… and get the door.

4 thoughts on “Breasts

  1. Anonymous says:

    this cracked me up, beth. but it took me a ridiculous amount of time to figure out who mandy nouman was. oy. brandi

  2. Beth says:

    Lori – what’s funny is I didn’t know “M”andy was a breast talker until someone pointed it out and from that moment forward it FREAKED me right on out – she talked to EVERYONE’S breasts.Pam – Sometimes I think we’re blessed with long term memories just for those college “pre-adult” years to haunt and remind us that yes, we did end a relationship with “ewww”. 🙂

  3. Pam says:

    This reminded me of a guy I dated in college. He was a breast-talker too, although I didn’t know it because it only happened when he was drunk. He came to a New Year’s party my roomies and I threw, and while chatting with my bigger-breasted roomie who was wearing a cleavage-showing kinda dress, made her so uncomfortable that she went and changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. I was so annoyed I wouldn’t talk to him, and when he finally apologized all I could think of to say was “apology accepted, only because she accepted it first, but still. You’re gross. Ewwwww. I don’t think we’re gonna see each other anymore.” Ahh, the eloquence of a 19-year-old drunk girl. That goes down in history as the only budding relationship I ended with the word ‘ewwww.’

  4. Lori says:

    So funny…Made me think of our former co-worker. The little crazy whose name rhymes with Mandy Nouman who used to do the same thing. Granted, I’m 6′ tall and I get my fair share of boob talkers, but she was a constant offender. I really wanted to get one of those t-shirts with the big arrow, but instead of it pointing down and saying “Baby on Board”, it would point up and say “I’m Up Here”.

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