Oh breasts. I’ve found that there is a direct correlation to how many
synonyms or how much slang is used to describe the things that are
talked about MOST often. Breasts are no different. So, at the
well-calculated risk of sounding sophomoric, let’s run through a
couple of names for breasts: Knockers, jugs, melons, tatas, tittes,
love apples, fun bags, love sacks, and hooters (and yes the list does
go on, I know because this is the super condensed version).
Let’s face it, men talk about them, look at them, goggle at them,
dream about them, buy them, and think about them (I’ll stop there
because I want this post to be PG-13). Men just have a fascination
with breasts, it’s innate in our make-up. Can any man really pinpoint
why he likes them? Why does the thought of the tata leave you gaga?
Who knows…and frankly who really cares? We love them, but I’ll try to
explain.
Let’s start at the beginning. Men, go back to when we were babies,
they were our first source of sustenance and comfort. In
pre-adolescence, they were a source of confusion, sometimes discomfort
because we couldn’t really fully understand why we couldn’t stop
looking at them. Then adolescence they became the hot topic of
conversation, but did we ever really understand why? Manhood, well
heck most men define their manhood based large-in-part to breast and
their inter most personal dealings with them (I feel like I’m
tip-toeing).
Woman also appreciate a good boobie too, so its not just men looking.
As much as a well-endowed woman will say she doesn’t like people
staring, I think she can appreciate the admiration. I think the line
is drawn when she feels that people only see her as a nice rack.
Women also realize that they are wielding a strong weapon of
persuasion, and use those assets when the time is right. Women know
what they do to us, and they do use that to their advantage.
The love of the breast is sexual. No man just wants to look at them,
that just happens to generally be the prerequisite for getting
involved with them. You don’t take the melon home without first
looking at it, making sure its ripe, and sometimes thumping it (wow I
feel like a child). We look because at our very core, we’re just
trying to spread our seed. A nice mammary is going to feed our
children well. I’m guessing you don’t buy that…I don’t either, but
since I can’t explain it maybe going back to how God may have intended
it to be appealing is all I got left.
Shoot, I’m a butt man anyway. Signing off confused…in more ways then one.
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