It's almost Christmas time! Snow on the ground, lights going up, Walmart fully decked out in purple spandex and Bing singing jolly good tunes in every elevator across the world!
Time for giving, so let's see 'em girls. Bring out the silicone pleasure domes!
Even in these dire times, when people are losing their jobs, the cost of gas, bread, eggs and hair gel is at all time highs, some choose to flaunt their booby implants.
Feel the spirit people? I sure do!
I like breasts. Big, small, C-cups, DD's, winnebagos, ta-ta's, melons,........... Heck, I like breast bar-b-que'd over an open flame or sliced up thin and wok'd into a spicy, stir fry.
To me breasts are great!
The basic function here is to supply nutrition to infants, sustaining a healthy early childhood, so breast fed men can grow up to slobber uncontrollably while watching Desperate Housewives. Right? They serve their purpose. Going about there business, pointing women in the right direction, leading them up the corporate ladder one cup size at a time.
HA HA HA!!! Just joking ladies!
Anyway and once again, don't get me wrong, they are nice to look at. The woman's body is a miracle of nature. Perfect, no matter the shape, size or Victoria Secrets naughty coverings she might be wearing. Even women like looking at other women, because women are, simply put, nice to look at, where guys are...well, they're guys. 'Nough said about that.
But, do woman need to show them off to just anyone? Alright, that's generalizing, isn't it? Not all women do this, but it does seem to be a habit of the ones that have had boob jobs. Just need to show 'em off, like trophies behind glass.
Texting, another thing. Must they MMS text them the before and after pictures of their newly acquired 'girls'? They do, and I have proof so don't try denying it (you know who you are!).
Still, going into the bathroom after having such a delicate surgery and exposing themselves to their friends, and complete strangers, at the local dance club after a few drinks seems somewhat strange to my way of thinking?
This is precisely what happened to a girlfriend of mine, by a co-worker woman friend of mine, several weeks after they had healed and she was pleasantly drunk. After my girlfriend saw them, she described them to me.
"What do you mean, there kinda fuzzy?"
"Fuzzy and I will never talk of them again," she muttered.
I could never look at my co-worker again the same...meaning I always fixated on her eyes, rather than...well...
This whole 'sharing' thing is just odd to me. Men don't do this.
"Hey Joe, take a gander at this bad boy," Ted says, leaning out of the stall in the bathroom of the Bigfoot Tavern, swinging his junk like a Burmese python.
Course, maybe we would if there was a procedure that put us at a Dirk Diggler level of endowment!