This is a boob post. Mom, you may wanna skip this one, or at the very least, do NOT print it out for Dad. (You may also want to not have read the below post, especially when I say the phrase “Afterglow.” )
I have boobs. Most chicks do. On their own, they’re not really impressive, not the way my ass is. My ass goes around unassisted, and gets unsolicited comments ALL THE TIME. I suspect my ass is winking at people behind my back, actually.
So no, my boobs are not that great on their own. (I think my Mom’s are bigger. But then again, she’s breast fed two kids with hers.) But then I discovered the joy of the push up bra. (A secret joy! 1 and a half!) Suddenly, my shape matches in the way that Pop Culture says it’s supposed to match. My shadow on the sidewalk sticks out in the front and in the back. You have no idea what this means to a chick, and before you leave a comment about how I shouldn’t let Pop Culture dictate what I look like, and enjoy what nature gave me, you should understand that YOU probably have bigger boobs than I do. Because most everyone does. (Also, every time you judge me, I get a free set of steak knives in heaven. It’s TRUE!)
Yes, I’m tying this to religion. In separate instances this year, I have heard pastors in 8:45am church and 11:00am church plead with the ladies in their congregations to please please PLEASE dress appropriately. And they’re not just talking about in church, but all the time.
Which makes me wonder, Holy Crapola, what are these women wearing that would prompt a statement like that? I’m no Hoochie Mama, I probably have a higher sense of decorum that comes from being from Alabama, but I like décolletage as much as the next chickie, since mine is so hard to come by. I don’t let it hang out, but I have a few V neck and scoop neck shirts here and there. So he must be talking about ME! Both pastors explained in general terms, that men really can’t help themselves when it comes to suggestive stuff, whether on billboards, on magzine covers, or standing on two feet in front of them, so “Ladies, help us out.” And wear not-revealing stuff so that, I’m guessing, when they look at you, they see you, and not your boobs.
This irked me. See, I don’t ask the hotties sitting in my row at church to put a bag over their head to prevent me from staring at them and letting my imagination run away with all the supremely naughty things I would like them to do to me involving vanilla massage oil, and a rock climbing harness. No, no, I exercise discipline and restraint by not looking at them. Okay, I look at them once. Maybe twice. But then I focus on the music, and the Jumpers, and then I SHUT MY EYES.
Is it so much to ask for guys to do the same thing? Exercise discipline and restraint without me having to constantly second-guess my wardrobe every time I pull something out on Sunday, “Now, is this too much cleavage? Is this considered inappropriate? Will wearing this hella cute empire waist shirt from The Gap cause an uproar in the Pastor’s imagination?”
Oh come on, Amy! the hotties can’t do anything about their face, but you can make choices about your boobs! It’s not even the same thing!
Here’s the thing: To ask ladies to cover up because it makes men’s thoughts run wild like a stampede of elephants at a peanut butter factory instantly reduces women to mere body parts. Cover Up Your Rack. It Makes Me Feel Naughty. There’s a brain attached to this rack, see. You just acknowledged that when you look at me, there’s a possibility that all you see is my boobs. I appreciate the honesty (though since you’re a guy, I probably already knew that about you), but I also appreciate you trying harder on the self control thing, and acknowledging me as a whole complete person with eyes, ears, nose, and albino legs, as well as boobs.
The 8:45am guy also said if you’re a woman, don’t hug him from the front, do one of those side one arm hug things. He’s married, after all. Huh? I once attended a church (in L.A., by the way) where the pastor said very forthrightly that he doesn’t go to lunch with a female where it’s just him and her, because he’s married, after all. Huh? Are we TOXIC? No, no, the men just can’t help themselves, see. Your outfit, your boobs, your mere presence, is DANGEROUS, and may lead them into temptation. Nothing you can do about it. It’s them, not you. But they don’t want your hugs, and they don’t want your singular presence across the lunch table. They probably don’t wanna talk to you unless there’s another person around to take the pressure off.
I’ve never heard a female pastor say anything like that about a guy. Because guys don’t have boobs. They can BE boobs, but they don’t have them. Because women have more self control. Because men can’t control themselves and women can.
Shouldn’t the guys try harder? That’s all I’m saying. If they can’t control themselves, shouldn’t they TRY to control themselves? Isn’t that what they’re supposed to go to God for? As opposed to putting restrictions on the women around them? And, oh, I don’t know, maintain eye contact on my face, not below my neck? Because they’re not THAT impressive. They’re just boobs. But apparently intimidating. Which makes me giggle. After I’m done being irked.