5 Things You Should Never Say to a Large-chested Woman

Large bra

I am well endowed.  Have been since I first sprouted in middle school.  When my mom took me to get my first bra, my Dad joked that we were going to buy an “over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder.”  He didn’t know the unfortunate truth of that statement that was to come.

I get that women everywhere want large breasts.  Actually, I take that back.  Women don’t REEEEALLY want large breasts.  They think they do.  Because somewhere, some guy told them bigger was better.  Or they heard it on TV.  Or a movie.  They read it in a magazine.  They think they want to be big because it results in more attention, desire, and ultimately, approval, love and acceptance.

I’m not exactly a fan of my D-cups.  They’re not horrible, but they are just…. way too big.  They make my back hurt, they get in the way of just about everything from playing guitar to scrubbing the shower, and they nearly give me a concussion every time I go jogging.  It amuses me to no end how women assume that I love them, and that if they had them, they would love them too.

But you know what happens when  you assume.

It makes an ASS out of U and ME.

5 Things You Should Never Say to a Large-Chested Woman:

1.  “They’re just…..so….BIG.”  If she loves them, well then, you’re single-handedly helping to fuel this cultural lie that highly-sexualized bodies are the only way to get noticed.  Surely, there’s something else you could compliment her on?  And if she doesn’t love them, well, then you’ve just pointed out the pimple.

2. “Oh, stop it, you could totally go bra-less.”  Umm, HAVE YOU SEEN THEM?  No.  Bra-less isn’t an option, but thanks for not taking me at my word, and reminding me that I’m doomed to live in a “chestity belt” for ever and ever.

3. “Can I feel them?”  Man or woman, this is never appropriate.  I don’t care if we’re best friends.  They’re mine.  And my husband’s.  And he doesn’t like when other people use his toys.

4. “Bend…….AND SNAP!”  This kind of vulgar behavior repulses me.  Especially when you consider the fact that I spend more time playing them down than I do buying shoes.

5. “My boobs are so small!”  I would gladly switch with you, if I could.  So thanks.  For that.  Can we talk about your awesome cheek bones too?  And then bond over a mani-pedi?

 

 

 

 

NO STRINGS ATTACHED

no_strings_attached (2)

What is love?  “Baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, no more.”  Cue head banging.  (If you’re too young to remember this, here:)

 

Some maintain that love is an emotion.  Or that love is an ability.  Or that love is a verb.

 

I belong in the “love is an action” camp.  Think about it, to act in love IS to love. After actors get paid to kiss each other, fake intimacy, and act as though they’re in love, often, it turns into the real thing. They start dating, they get married, they cheat on their current spouse with their co-star. So what’s the difference, I wonder.  Between acting love, and feeling it.

 

I used to be a professional Ballroom Dancer.  Yes, I KNOW.  It’s just as glamorous as it sounds.  And in that industry, it’s extremely commonplace for dance partners to fall in love.  I fell in love with my dance partner, and 2½ years later, he became my husband.  That’s popular too. For dance partners to get married.  (And about 3 years later, to get divorced. Hence why I USED to be a professional dancer.  I’m still married, FYI.)  When playing up the sexuality of the Rumba or Cha Cha, you’re stepping through the actions of a couple in love, or in lust.  Maybe it’s more love -as in the heartfelt affection- when you dance the Waltz.

 

And as if by some sort of pre-meditated inside joke, every movie about one-night-stands or cheap and meaningless sex ends with the characters falling in love. The moral of the story is always that when you ACT in love, the body can’t can’t tell the difference. Two people who behave as though they’re experiencing love, end up experiencing  just that.

 

So there’s this photographer who puts random people together in intimate poses before taking their picture.

 These strangers who get thrown together to pose as couples, fathers, daughters, Aunts, or Grandmothers end up feeling affection for the random person that they’re hugging in the picture.

 

The “Love Dare,” as described in the book and movie “Fireproof” is the concept of acting out love whether or not you receive any in return. Eventually, the giver (and receiver) of this display of affection is powerless against the stream of emotion.  And often, in the beginning, it’s only an ACT of affection, that later morphs into actuality.

 

I’m definitely not the world’s foremost authority on this subject, but I can most certainly tell you one thing: never easier is love received in my heart, than when it’s created in my heart first.  And never easier is it created in my heart, than when it’s created in my hands first.  It’s easy to stop acting, but I want an award nomination.

 

Love is an ACTion.  Better make it an Oscar-worthy performance.