BOOBS

Cleavage. Fascinates me. I don't know why but cleavage is visually hypnotic. Not the in-your-face, over the top, assaulting kind of cleavage I mean. Although that's hard to miss, it just seems trashy. And not the plumber kind either. ick. I'm talking about tasteful whispers of breast that leave something to the imagination. Even I can't avoid glancing at that.

When I wear the right shirt or get Victoria and her Secrets in on the action, my cleavage attracts plenty of attention. Today especially because this top has a pretty deep V and I am padded more heavily than the little brother in A Christmas Story but it's not like I'd wear this bra on a date. As I have mentioned, I'm not into false advertising but I view enhanced cleavage in everyday situations as more of a strategic move.

I find people are much more helpful, friendly and overall pliable when cleavage enters the picture. I'm sure Pamela Anderson gets people to do shit for her all the time without even trying. And you know, yowza and all, but those puppies are a bit much in my opinion. And fake. And cheating. I mean, she was a centerfold before those montrosities came on the scene, right? I'm not her biographer or anything so I don't know for sure. But why gild the lily, right? No? What? BOOBS!

I'm sure the men don't mind whether boobs are real or fake, as long as they're really THERE. And that is why I only wear the non padded bras on dates. Now. Or I would if I ever went on one. Who's got two thumbs and loves being single?! This gal! (You totally bought that, right?) Anyway. Getting to Second Base while you're wearing a piece of equipment with more padding than anything at your local Gymboree is awkward.

It's like giving a guy a gift in an XBox 360 box except he opens it up and finds a Gameboy instead. And even though it's the thought that counts and the Gameboy works just fine and you should be lucky you got a present in the first place... It's certainly not the damn XBox he was expecting. And that look of disappointment is devastating. Because the priority here was BOOBS!, y'all. And you can see the hamster on the wheel wondering if he should have taken out that other chick who had actual 36Ds on a size 0 frame and loves her some jello shooters and says WOO! all the time and even though she might throw up in the parking lot at the end of the night...BOOBS!

And then he'd think to himself, "Whatever. Love the one you're with." And you'd make out for a while and maybe go too far but he wouldn't call you again because the next stop he's making is WOO! Girl with hair extensions and body glitter. Because even though you're cute and funny, you're a little too much of a smartass for him and he didn't really get half your jokes anyway. And he'd much rather hang out with gigantic tits that don't talk so much.

And the next time you see his pictures on myspace he's burying his face in mountainous cleavage that looks photoshopped but really there was probably a stripper pole and a sugar daddy involved in that marvel of modern surgery. But WOW! Happy New Year 2009! hypothetically.

But sour grapes who wants to spend any significant amount of time with that guy anyway? Because 1. Attends MegaChurch Next Door, 2. Entire Ann Coulter library, 3. WIDESPREAD PANIC! WOO! and 4. Drops the N word several times in casual conversation. hypothetically.

The false advertising was an epic fail on my part. I know this now. I'd rather spend time with someone who appreciates well proportioned, natural breasts that really don't need a bra except they do because...nipples. Mind you, perfect kindergarten pencil eraser nipples at which lactation consultants marvel. (true) They would bring other lactation consultants to marvel also but they're all on break. (thankgod. are you fucking kidding me right now? where's my vicodin?)

But anyway, breasts (classy), boobs (standard), tits (always fun), hooters, knockers, jugs, melons (you're starting to sound stupid), funbags (gross, don't ever say that), mammaries (I'm pretty sure there's something wrong with you and please leave me alone). Whatever you want to call them, there's so many names because tits are fun, wonderful, magical things. And they make Jedi Mind Tricks so much easier. I'm fine with the two I have. I don't want yours and I'm not going for an upgrade.

Anyway, watching men sneak discrete glances at cleavage does not offend me at all. As long as you avoid a creepshow leer, I actually think it's cute. And I totally get it. And I'm flattered. Thanks.