It’s October. Christine’s post highlights the important message of breast cancer awareness in a light, east-to-read format with the added bonus of terrific recipes.
Boobs. Hooters. Ta-tas. Nah-nahs. Melons. Jugs. Headlights. Honkers. Rack. Chi-chis. Bosoms. Gazingas. Honkers. The Girls. The Twins. Tits. Pillows. Fun bags. Bumpy bits.
There are hundreds of names for them, some more respectful than others. But whatever they are called, everyone has a thing for breasts.
Women love them because of how they fill in their shirts and dresses. And because they have long been epitomized as the end-all, be-all of the feminine mystique. We are socialized from an early age that our boobs define us, much the same as men learn at an early age to define themselves based on the size of their….shoes.
Babies love them for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And because they make a nice pillow when resting on mommy’s chest. When throwing a tantrum, they make a nice soft target when hurling one’s little toddler head into mommy with impressive force.
And men love them because…….well…
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