Busted

Titties, boobs, chest, bosom, breasts, big bags of wheateena, the twins, melons.
The obsession with breasts is peculiar. To me it makes just about as much sense as being consumed with hands or belly buttons, yet the chest fixation is socially acceptable and even lauded in media.
Sure, most babies start out being sustained by this very part of the female body but, if you think about it, the same goes for the belly button.
I can also understand the erotic appeal of the breast, it is soft- like a neat pillow- and often reacts favorably to stimuli, which granted, the belly button does not. But other than that, what is the big deal?
Breast Augmentation was in the top five surgical cosmetic plastic surgery procedures in 2003, with just over a quarter million reported.
82% of people who have cosmetic surgery are women. That is a HUGE gender discrepancy, folks.
Before I continue, I should admit to having had my teeth done. I have an overbite and my parents refused to let me to have braces. They thought I should wait until my head had caught up with the size of my overbite. But nothing could ever catch up with the size of my overbite
and I ended up having fairly large gaps between my teeth and the gaps really annoyed me.
Some years ago I was able to have the gaps "sculpted" which took less than two hours, caused no pain and no suffering and had no side effects except I now get foods stuck in my teeth. I often forget to floss. I therefore am fully capable of walking around for a whole day with something stuck in my teeth.
Yeah, real fancy and glam.
The other thing I should admit is that I was a 34D by the time I was 14, and it was hell. Being groped by teenage boys is hell. Having people stare at your breasts when you are too young to tell them to go to hell, is hell.
But not being to accept one's own body is even worse.
I think most people find charisma and self confidence far more attractive than the size of breasts or any other body part. So why are we obsessed?
Part of it is "image bombardment". We are continually bombarded with images of perfection. Even now, when we know how easy it is to photoshop Keira Knightley's chest, we don't get it. There are very few women who actually look like the photo shopped picture of Keira Knightly, probably less than 1%. The rest of us have this that an the other thing that keep us out of that league, just like we can't all be members of Mensa or paint like Odd Nerdrum. But how often do we hear people say "Tag nabbit! I wish I was way smarter so I could make better investments and make more money!" One of the main reasons for this is the skewed flow of information. The "1% body-fabs" are disproportionately featured in media. We see their pictures so often that we actually think there are more of them and eventually start thinking that we should look like them.
Meanwhile, the beauty industry is making $160 billions-a-year, globally.
I should probably start investing in it, I'd rather make money off of them than have them make money off of my insecurities.

PS. Ask for any advice you need!

Free Advice

Last time I was in New York, we took a walk through Central Park. There were the usual suspects: roller-bladers, kids, dogs, tourists and various stands offering roasted nuts, pretzels and free advice. I really wanted to stop by the free advice stand and ask them what to do with my life. But as I was with a group of people, I felt too embarrassed.
Half an hour ago I glanced through the latest issue of Psychology Today and saw a little snippet on these people offering free advice in NYC.
Here is my problem: I have always been good at giving advice, yet I have never thought of using this skill for anything else than annoying my friends.
I am not a licensed therapist nor a member of the clergy, but my mom and step dad often used me as their designated referee. Yeah, they did end up divorcing, but that is what I told them when I was nine, they just didn't listen.
From now on you can ask me anything you want and I will give you advice.
Ask away.

Family Values

Growing up, I was one of two pupils in my year at school whose parents were divorced. We lived in a small town and in those days it simply wasn't done. Later, in my teens, we had not only moved to a bigger city where it was much more common, but also there seemed to be a veritable divorce wind sweeping through my friends' homes.
But for a couple of years in elementary school I was certainly an anomaly. As for my own remembrance of the divorce it really wasn't at all bad, I don't think I really thought about it. Until other people would talk to me about it. Other people being well meaning grown ups who thought it was horrible that I was from a broken home. Perhaps they were scared that I would bring some unsavory element to their well organized lives?
While I certainly did not have a fairy tale childhood, I am convinced that there were much more sinister things going on in those "un-divorced" households than in my mess of a home. Yet I was often made to feel like I should be ashamed of my family simply because my parents had gotten a divorce.
I cannot help but think of this when I hear people talk about family values and morals. We have such a stagnant idea of what a family is that we reject those who break that pattern. A child who is made to feel ashamed about their background and family will be hurt and probably will be troubled at some point, but not for the reasons that the morally correct would believe. Children are often remarkably perceptive, if we pass judgment on the choices of others so will they. A child who is constantly told how bad their family is, will certainly start to think so.
How dare we pass judgment on single parents/gay parents/divorced parents etc? How dare we claim that a family cannot be good and loving and nurturing simply because it fails to fit into a ridiculous mold that is not only outdated, but probably never existed to begin with?
I am indeed concerned for the moral fabric of people who are unable to see the damage they inflict on young lives with their judgmental behavior.