I Heart Boobs

I am a regular guest on Aaron Clarey’s Older Brother Podcast, and two of the other Older Brother regulars this week hosted a YouTube telethon to raise funds for an apparently much-needed boobjob, using the hashtag #Boobs4Ann. So, that sparked an idea in my loins, and as a result I’m writing this little post from a happy nihilistic perspective on the wonderful, voluptuous, joyous, life-giving world of boobies.

Which means I’m going to take all the mystery out of man’s obsession with boobs, and conclude that boobjobs are ultimately meaningless because we all die. The sun will eventually expand and swallow up the Earth, where even the two plump little plastic packages of silicone gel that sit atop that heap of dust and crumbled bones that was you in your casket will become ashes and dust as well. But boobs matter now, because they make us happy.

Definition and origin of the word “boob”: a stupid or childish person, short for “booby,” which came from the Latin “balbus,” which means “stammering.” Yes, ladies, you’re boobs turn us men into stammering, childish idiots.

Why do we men really really like the sight of cleavage? Why do we like large breasts? Turns out, we don’t know exactly why, even from an evolutionary perspective. It could be because we are one of the few mammals who mate face to face. It could be because large fatty breasts signal a healthy woman who will be able to easily feed and nourish our children. It could be because women bond with their children through the release of the chemical oxytocin (or the “love drug”) when their nipples are stimulated during breastfeeding, and because humans are largely monogamous, women bond with their sexual partners as well when their nipples are stimulated in a similar (and fun) fashion. It could be because cleavage looks very similar to ass-cheek cleavage, which is the view from our desired vantage-point when not mating face-to-face.

A few visual examples of proof-of-concept, the first being a fine example from the new gameshow, “Boobs or Butt?”

The second, a fine example of a fine example:

We men are very visual creatures – the appeal of pornography alone proves this point definitively. But the problem with all these boob-obsessed theories is the evolutionary fact that sperm is cheap and literally expendable, fertile eggs are rare and precious, and therefore men cannot afford to be choosy – women really don’t have to compete for access to penis, and are ultimately responsible for sexual selection and access to reproduction. We men will have sex with anyone, big boobs or no.

And now, my personal perspective: Mrs. DT is well endowed. She is blessed with big boobies – well-beyond beyond D-cup, I believe – and therefore DT is likewise blessed. Mrs. DT is also not fat, so her big breasts are not a result of everything else being big. And the truly amazing and miraculous thing is that they work. When Mrs. DT was lactating after our first and second children were born, it truly was a sight to behold, watching her boobs grow even bigger. Her breasts were so big she had difficulty naturally breastfeeding our babies. Those bloated bags of milk could potentially suffocate the poor little things to death, their nostrils stopped with boobage. So we pumped, and it was a two-person job. She would hook up her two breasts to the machine, both her hands preoccupied, and my job was to take the full bottles, transfer the milk to plastic bags, and bring them back for a second filling. That’s right, Mrs. DT would fill four 6 ounce bottles during every pumping session, or 24 ounces total. The suction cups were clear, so I would watch the milk shoot out of her nipples like squirt-guns in regular time with every audible suck of the electric breastpump. Pew-pew-pew!

A newborn baby only needs 3 ounces per feeding, so Mrs. DT expressed enough milk in one pumping session to last 8 feedings, or enough for one whole day. She pumped at least four to five times per day. We filled both our freezers with those bags of breast milk, and after a few months of pumping we had enough to feed the kid for almost a year. She could’ve kept going, but stopped because we ran out of freezer space. We should’ve made money on her boobs – most women have trouble expressing enough milk – and studies show that newborn babies fed breast milk as opposed to formula are healthier and smarter. There is stuff in breast milk that babies need that just cannot be replicated in a lab.

Mrs. DT was a fertility goddess. No wonder the carved totems look the way they do. It was amazing, and gave me a whole new respect and admiration for boobies.

And men aren’t the only ones attracted to big boobs. Women are as well, and view other women blessed with them as being more motherly and loving. Waitresses with large boobs receive bigger tips from both men and women.

So what about boobjobs? As with all plastic surgery, they are a trick to signal good health and good genetics. What do they trick? Our big brains and our little brains. Babies cannot eat silicone gel. Fake breasts don’t work like real ones – I imagine they look kinda weird when working for real, depending on where the breast tissue is located in relation to the implants. They also look too perfect, too plastic, too round, too perky. We as men know they are fake, but we don’t care. We’d rather be fooled and happy, and trick our brains into believing we’ve struck the motherload of genetics. Ignorance is bliss. Boobjobs are a good trick – we men like the sight of them, and the women who “wear” them are likely more confident, self-assured, and feel more sexy.

So yes, boobjobs are a good trick, because they make us happy and fulfilled (and full-filled, for that matter). But really, isn’t sex itself mostly a trick? Sex feels amazing because we are born to reproduce and continue our genetics – that is the whole point of life itself, to grow and continue on into the future. The sexual drive is so strong men kill each other, and slowly kill themselves through hard work and toil, over the prospects of reproduction. But today we live in very different times, where contraception is widely available, and men and women can permanently sterilize themselves. When you really think about it, any sex that is not for the purposes of reproduction is tricking our brains into believing we are reproducing – “safe sex” produces all the same feelings as the real deal that results in children, with all the same chemicals released into our brains that produce feelings of pleasure, love, closeness, and intimacy that bond couples together precisely for the successful raising of their children. To be blunt, protected sex is using another person to masturbate. But it makes us happy, so what is wrong with that?

Boobjobs are good tricks. They are good lies. Sure, they won’t result in healthier children, and they will be the only things that remain when you’re dead and gone and nothing but a heap of dust with two little plastic sacks on top, like cherries atop a shit sundae, for some future alien archaeologist to find and wonder “what the fuck are these things?” Ultimately they don’t matter, but even reproduction itself doesn’t matter, because in the end everything burns.

But they matter now, because they make us happy and make life enjoyable.

So if you have a couple extra bucks, make your contribution to #Boobs4Ann. Why not?

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