[Disclaimer: I have many beloved male friends and family members who seem to operate under the assumption that everything I do and say is about/targeted at them. This is untrue as a rule, and also, this particular post is not about any of you. It is not about anyone specific. Got it? (Actually, I do reference an ex-boyfriend pretty specifically, but I'm fairly certain he wouldn't read my blog if you paid him.) If you can't handle me talking about a generally less flattering aspect of male anatomy without assuming I am referring specifically to you, then you are only allowed to read the first three paragraphs... the three that follow this one, that is.... That being said, I do hope that my crude humor isn't enough make any of you beautiful people doubt how wonderful your bodies are, because I love them all. Disclaimer over.]
Today I read a super "edgy" blog. It was super in-your-face, and was all about "uncomfortable truths" (they were relatively convenient though, so back off, Al Gore) and being all in your face about all the grimy hidden corners of that person's life. Reading it, I thought "Hey! I could do that! Maybe if I talk about all the "uncomfortable truths" in my own life people will think I'M edgy!"
So here we go. Uncomfortable truth: I'm a Junior in college, and my boobs are smaller than yours were when you were in the 8th grade.
I still fit into most of my old training bras. Most of the bras I wear from day to day though are whatever the smallest adult size at Walmart/Kohl's was that day, which is typically a 34A, all of which hang off of me in much the same way that they would if someone had wrapped them around a cylindrical pillar, or a brick wall- and by that I mean the cups keep their shape, despite being totally (or at least mostly) empty.
It's typically hard for me to not blurt out everything I am thinking at any given time, which means that rather than try to hide the tiny-ness of my boobs in ruffly shirts or push-up bras, or feign ignorance of how tiny they are like a normal insecure person might, I have a tendency to talk about boobs all the time. All day every day, my poor friends have to tiptoe around trying not to ever bring up cleavage or bras or curves or workout clothing or anything at all that could lead me to the topic of boobs, because then I'll feel compelled to make some self-deprecating (but at the same time, hilarious) joke, and then they will feel compelled to stifle their laughter and say things like "Oh, you're exaggerating" or "Don't say that, I think they're cute" or some such joke-killing nonsense.
This insecurity was worst, though, during my Junior year of high school; for that was the year my boyfriend had bigger boobs than I did. For a while, I was understandably jealous of my boyfriend's abundant cleavage. Why should he get what I so desperately wanted, when he couldn't even appreciate it?!? Once I really got the chance to examine them, though, I came to appreciate not having his boobs (notice that I said "not having his boobs", not "not having boobs") because despite our respective boobs being alike in their weirdly flat nipples, mine, though BARELY existing, somehow managed to maintain a more feminine shape. And by that, all I really mean is that they lacked the sort of sideways droopy quality which is the man-boob signature look. His were still bigger, though. Darn.
Manboobs are becoming a real epidemic in this country though, and not just in the people you would suspect (when I picture man-boobs, I tend to imagine a man who could conceivably consume another, smaller, adult human over the course of a day). However, as someone who surrounds herself with a lot of unathletic types, I am able to do extensive anthropological research in the field of man-boobs, and what I've discovered is that though obviously they are made of fat, the man-boob has begun to creep across the entire male bodytype spectrum!
That's right, menfolk. Whether you are 3inches around, or 30 feet, no one is safe from the man-boob phenomena.
You may be asking yourselves; how could this be? Well never fear, cuz I looked it up! Turns out, the reason man-boobs develop isn't explicitly fat, but MALNUTRITION!! Shockingly, while our beloved scrawny male friends are hiding from the sunlight pirating Game of Thrones and/or playing Pathfinder, their diet is dominated by greasy processed meat full of hormones, cellophane-packed sugar/salt items, and to wash it down, a frothing two liters of poop-colored sugar chemicals. Yum.
...And when I look at it that way, I feel like we should be thanking our lucky stars that the what's come of it is just some harmless man-boobs and not, say, giant hairless tails, or people shooting carbonated fructose out of their armpits, or something.
But I mentioned how tiny my boobs are, right? Seriously, when I go to the gym I often get mistaken for an adolescent boy. By people I know. I wish I was kidding.
~Alicen
Skiing through the trees
Is like a big puzzle maze
Solve it quick, or die
No comments:
Post a Comment