Are Your Boobs Weird Too?

Yes, this is a breastacular boobicle about fun bags.

Image from Giphy

Boobs are (wonderfully) weird. A mere mention of the jiggly meat sacks and our ears — and eyes — perk up. It doesn’t seem to matter how many we’ve seen before, we’re always interested in more.

Our society is udderly obsessed with sweater stretchers — and this writer is too. Even though I’m straight most of the time, I simply can’t stop looking at these weapons of mass distraction.

I don’t know why flesh bulbs became a societal obsession. If you ask Freud, his answer would probably have been something about the psychosexual stage of development, perhaps stemming from his own Oedipus complex. Exactly how hot was Freud’s mom that this was one of his favorite theories? But I digress.

There are ample sociological and psychological theories on why society is obsessed with boobs, but we’re even more lost scientifically, on why we have them in the first place.

Why Boobs

Science still isn’t sure why we’re the only animals with large dairy cannons. One of the leading theories is that women evolved larger breasts after men picked the cave ladies with the biggest meat melons. Perhaps because it was a sign of fertility to cave brains.

My personal theory is that our crumb catchers accidentally stored enough food in them that we could make it through dry food seasons. So the bigger-breasted of us thrived. The extra fat in them could’ve been a breastacular survival mechanism.

But we’re the only animals with noticeably large blubber nuggets.

Maybe that alone is why we’re obsessed with them.

Other animals' breast tissue only becomes large when lactating and feeding their young and then shrinks back down again. Ours get bigger and then deflate after breastfeeding too, my mom reminds me of that regularly. But even after being used as baby bumpers, they don’t entirely disappear.

Sweater Meat Sizeage

If you’re anything like me, you’ve wondered why you were assigned to the itty-bitty titty committee and not the honga-bazonga booby board. Sadly, the answer is genetics. I’d say ‘Thanks, Mom’, but a woman can get her chesticle size from either parent. So...uhh…‘Thanks, dad’?

Image from Giphy

Genetics dictates the size of your cleave conspirators, for the most part. But ever since 1962, with the first boob job, modern medicine can change the size of your sweater dingos. Across the world, almost 2 million Golden-Globe jobs are performed annually. That’s 4 million individual dairy pillows that change their genetic stars.

I haven’t gotten one because they cost on average about $10,000. That’s 5 grand per titty, and I could only afford to get one done. It would be the left one, and no, I don’t know why I’d pick leftie. Another reason I haven't considered it is that I haven’t gotten any complaints so far.

I’m a goofy southpaw though, maybe that’s why I’d go left. Most people, if they had to pick one sweat warlock to be enlarged would probably pick the right one. Because…

Statistically, the left swaggle bag is bigger. We’re not sure why.

Chest fenders are magical though, and can change sizes all by themselves. Even without the witchcraft of modern medicine. Once a month during our cycles, when ‘the Communists are in the Funhouse’, our sweater zeppelins can grow up to a full cup size. They can also be perkier too.

I knew my little left eye pointed due-er norther once a month.

Unfortunately, immediately after Aunt Flow has left the funhouse they shrink back down again. Then they’re the smallest of any point in the monthly cycle. Well, I guess I just learned when not to schedule my playdates.

Weight gain can also increase sweater-meat size. I can confirm the reverse of that; when I lost weight my shirt turnips ran away. They took my ass with them on their funscapade. Not everyone has this reaction to weight gain and weight loss though, it depends on how much fatty tissue they have, and the overall juggerknocks’ density.

There’s a scientific name for women who are naturally thin and have big boobs — Bitches. Lucky bitches.

Image from Giphy

Overall, women in the US have gotten larger booby bongos over the last twenty years. The average size two decades ago was a 34B. Now, it’s a hefty 34DD. The growth may be partially explained by the 275,000 annual boob jobs performed annually in the US. But let’s face it — the majority of that B-to-DD growth is due to weight gain.

Speaking of weight, the average blouse clown weighs between one and two pounds. But they can get bigger than that. A lot bigger. The Guinness World Record’s prize for the biggest milk monsters goes to a set that weighs almost 100 pounds. They’re size 52I.

My back hurts just thinking about that.

The Sag Factor

Eventually, all chest puppies will start to sag. Time is stubbornly linear, and gravity is an unrelenting bitch. Blouse bunnies begin to sag as the tissue in them is replaced with fat, which is sadly what happens everywhere else seemingly too. Except for my ass, since it ran away and never came back.

There are no muscles in our mammary macaroons. So when the fun bags turn to fat, you’re kinda screwed. Some people say if you work your pectoral muscles it helps, others say wearing a bra (or not wearing one) helps. But ‘people’ say a lot of shit that doesn’t seem to help.

The Knocker Lockers

Speaking of holding your tits up, we come to the mammory hammock section of this breasticle. These infernal contraptions were rumored to have started in ancient Rome, where women wrapped their mush melons in cloth.

In 1914, Mary Phelps Jacobs had the brilliant idea to patent the bra. It had come a long way since Roman cloth though, and now had straps and cups.

Then in 1969, we burned those summabitches.

Sadly, they came back in some form of witchcraft.

Women have had a love-hate relationship with the bra bastards ever since. It’s been rumored that 80% of us wear the wrong size of titty trough, but experts dispute that theory. A lot of us do wear the wrong mammary muzzle sizes though, because finding the right bra is like trying to solve world peace — with $0.80 of fabric.

Whether you’re rocking gazongas or grapes, bra fitting is difficult because of either spillage or the dreaded cup gap. Shopping for bras is about as much fun as running through a cornfield backward. But we have to do it because bras aren’t designed to last forever.

Experts say that breaster arresters should be replaced annually since they lose support and our bodies change over time. But we all have that bra we’ve had since Obama was president, and it’s aged just as gracefully as Barack.

The average woman has 12–16 bras but only wears half of them regularly. But only one of them is our favorite, and it’s probably beige. We wash it at cold temperatures and air-dry it to help it stay on life support so it will last just a little longer.

Over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder shopping is a pricey affair, with the average woman spending $3,500 on bras in her lifetime. That number however is likely to go up, since flopper stoppers have drastically increased in price over the years. Every time I go into a bra shop these days they all seem to be $65–85 now, but they used to be $20-$30 when I first started wearing a bra.

And yet somehow, my bras are less pretty now than they were back then. Ahem, again, beige. Although that’s when I wear them, which isn’t often. It’s one positive thing about having small potato pompoms. Many of us small-chesticle’d ladies wear them just to cover the nips.

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I’ve made it this far without slipping the nip, but I know you’ve been desperately waiting for me to mention the areola borealis. But I have almost 5 minutes of notes on just sweater knobs — so you’ll have to (subscribe, and) wait for my upcoming NippleTalk.

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Do you want to support me but those $5+ per month subscriptions add up? Fair.

I’d absolutely love your support at any level that’s comfortable for you…

$1 per month (would picking the lowest option make you cheap? Nope, I’d love you)

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Don’t have any money? Don’t worry, me neither, and I still love you.

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In the meantime you can check out my other articles in the series:

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