 |
 |
| Keeping Abreast - Some Notes on Upstairs
Remodeling by Anna Collins Think about it - plastic impersonating mammary glands. Who would have thunk it? And the funny thing is, no one makes even a lame attempt to make them look real. Not the surgeons who implant them, nor the women who have them implanted. Fake boobies are the only artificial things I know of that, the faker they look, the better everyone likes them! And most of time they're about as soft as marbleized granite. Yet nobody seems to care. I guess it's because, well, they just look so darn cute, don't they? And they're everywhere. You know if you live in South Florida the number of fake boobies rivals the number of palm trees. Fake boobs are arguably, the one thing imitating something natural, that no one strives to have actually look natural, yet that in itself, seems perfectly natural. You almost have to read that sentence twice. No plastic surgeon will ever hear a woman say, "Doctor, please make my breasts proportionate to my body size, height and weight." It's more like, "Hey doc, can you make them the size of that exercise ball I use in pilates class?" But again, the faker looking, the better. It's the nature of the beast, er, breast. Like it's perfectly natural for a 5'2" woman to have size 42DDs, so when she turns sideways, she actually looks like the letter "D". Coincidence? I think not. And either you love the fake boobies or you hate them. The women that don't have them, seem to hate them. They can be snide. "Harrumph!" they'll say, with a sneer, when their husband, boyfriend or bootie call starts ogling some girl's breastuses maximonious [latin], "Her breasts are fake! Fake I tell you!" "Yah," say the men with a gleam in their eye and a curl in their lip, "But my hands are real." Good point. The quintessential question then remains, when getting the fake boobies, how big do you get them? 36, 38, 40, 42, HIKE! B, C, D, E, double F or huminah, huminah? (That last one's really big). I'm not here to judge, I'm here to point out the practical aspects of the augmented breast. Choosing one breast size, to me, seems much too finite because think about it - today's woman lives an active and diverse lifestyle - and so should her breasts. Why settle for just one size? Those plastic surgeons are missing a whole other market out there. Pay attention MDs! Here's my suggestion: when a woman is looking to alter "the girls, she should have a procedure that allows her a variety pack of fake boobies. A boob for every occasion, if you will. Her chest could be sort of a USB port for boobs. Let me explain. First, assume you're a woman. It's morning and you want to get in a nice jog before you go to work and have to sit in that heinously boring meeting with your boss and his three moronic partners. Great. You go to your BVP (Boob Variety Pack) and select a nice petite pair of "32As". Pop 'em in, secure the port and off you go. Thirty minutes later, you're back home after a very pleasant non tissue tearing non bounce-a-thon, run. Time to get ready for work. Oh dear. You didn't do your homework last night for the big meeting because you were too busy watching Nanny McPhee - so a set of full "Cs" would be in order with the navy blue suit and the white satin blouse with the plunging neckline. Not too vulgar, but just enough so boss man and The Three Stooges will be distracted from asking you all those dumb questions like, "Have we met our monthly quota?" Like you care. Just keep leaning forward as if you're deep in thought - which you will be - about your grocery list, if your ass is getting too big or how many Bed, Bath and Beyond coupons you'll need to finish decorating the guest room. Before you know it - it's five o'clock. You have a dinner date tonight with the cute investment banker your cousin fixed you up with. You dash home, change into something sexy and port in those "38Cs". During dinner, your date, who can't take his eyes off your chest, and is yammering on about high yield MMAs and convertible debentures, pauses to tell you he just bought a new Porsche. Damn! If only you were that good with money - you wouldn't be driving around in that clunker of yours that needs a new transmission - which ain't gonna be cheap. You make a mental note: port in "42FFFs" when visiting the mechanic Saturday. See what I mean? It's a jungle out there so why not make the best of things? Were I to venture down Augmentation Ave, I would definitely opt for the BVP. In my opinion, diamonds are a girl's second best friend. And not to be excluding, the men should have a similar option. Say, a PVP and maybe even one in different colors. PVP - that would be the - oops, my time's up. Geez, just when it was getting good! Especially the color part. What a shame - a gypus of goodpartus. [latin].
And that's the view from this broad.
|
|
Copyright 2007 - Anna Collins - All Rights Reserved