At the gym, I was lifting weights close to two women who were on adjacent treadmills talking about a friend of theirs who had just gotten a “boob job.”
“Why why why did she get one?” asked one. “They just sit on top of her chest like a pair of Texas grapefruit.”
“Because her husband is an asshole,” said the other. “She hopes it will fix everything wrong in their relationship. She doesn’t need bigger boobs. She needs a bigger husband.”
We all laughed, though afterwards, I thought it interesting the “insult” was also related to an assumption about “size.” The husband may be an asshole, and we all know a boob job won’t fix a lousy marriage. Right? But I don’t know if husband bought wife a boob job for her birthday, or if wife got a boob job for his.
Some women get boob jobs without a man around to please. They want to feel more attractive, to fill out clothes or a bathing suit. Perhaps they believe all men like women with bigger boobs, or maybe they don’t think about men, at all.
I don’t know that men can be blamed for this. Not all men find huge breasts attractive. My friend Billy says he’s mostly attracted to slim, small breasted women, and he prefers the touch of natural, regardless of size.
The topic of “objectification” is complicated, and I don’t think it’s well-understood.
Biological entities, we send biological messages when we present with breasts that sag and appear half empty (half-full doesn’t seem more positive, for some reason), and we send different messages with breasts that overflow a “D” cup.
As social entities, we are sending messages when those breasts are completely covered and nearly invisible at a concert, and a different message when a nipple wants to be seen by the room, from over the top or from the side on its own exhibitionist mission.
Because we are both biological and social, we send and receive mixed messages all the time. Our biology may be saying “I’m fertile and ready to bear children, come with me,” at the same time our social message may be saying, “Touch me and I’ll hurt you.”
These communications change over time. Layers of fat used to be the depiction of beauty. Not any more. Hollow cheek models have become so slim that France, of all places, recently “outlawed” the use of seemingly anorexic models in advertising because of the negative influence on “healthy” young women.
What we find “beautiful” changes, and sexual attraction is, by itself, dynamic in a relationship. We are built that way. As one of my favorite author’s once wrote, “There’s no aphrodisiac like a little strange stuff.”
At the same time, we all want to feel attractive, and we all want to be loved for who we are.
If a woman goes through that painful and dangerous surgery to satisfy the whim of a man, there’s a chance he might not be around long after scars disappear. There’s a chance she’s trying to fill a void, but not on her chest.
On the other hand, if a new pair of boobs helps her stand taller, either barefoot or in heels, wearing anything else or not, in public or in private, it’s her choice. That’s what’s important to me: that she made the decision, for reasons of her own.