I’ve read over my last three posts about my big boobs and decades of being stared at, leered at, commented about, and insulted.
Who knew the subject of boobs was such a heavy one? I mean figuratively, not literally, because I definitely know how literally heavy they are.
There are a couple of things that have surprised me:
- The feedback I have gotten from other women. I seem to have struck a chord. Many of us, it seems, stuff the anger and distaste we have felt for years down deep and rarely let it out.
We do talk about it from time to time among our girlfriends – usually when the men and children are gone and the wine is flowing. Even then, we make light of it, we joke about it, but I suspect the reality is a lot more painful than we admit. Maybe even to ourselves. Which leads me to the next surprise…
2. How angry I am. When I wrote the first post I thought I had just one small, short post to write about lugging around big boobs. But it has become much more. I’ve tapped into a fiery emotion that is very complex and is mixed with subtle issues about sexuality, objectification (like, can you have sexiness without objectification?), entitlement, respect, and situational appropriateness.
In other words, I don’t mind if my lover makes lustful comments about my bouncing boobs while I am on top of him…#rideemcowgirl…But if I don’t know you and you say something about the way they bounce, well then, Houston, we have a problem.
I’m really curious to hear your thoughts…are you interested in hearing more from me on this? Do you have a story to tell?
Talk to me, people!
Please comment here, I’d love to know I am not just roaring into the abyss…