Boobs, hooters, melons, muchachas, sisters, or the girls. One website claims to list over 250 nicknames for the female breasts.
We dress them with lace for date night. We smush them into immobility with a spandex sports bra to go for a run. We search endlessly for the perfect fit that holds the team up there without causing trampy levels of cleavage at our granddaughter’s piano recital. And we try to remember to give them a fondle from time to time for anything we didn’t see or feel on the last inspection.
But what do we know about them?
I was online cruising and found all sorts of fun facts about these often-misunderstood body appendages that seem to have a mind of their own. Did you know that the world’s largest natural breasts measure 70″ around, 43″ under, and would be a size 48V? Each side weighs 56 pounds. Each. Side.
There are eight different types of nipples. Good to know.
A 2013 study reported that men who prefer large breasts are often financially insecure. I’m not sure where to go with this one, but it might come in handy if I’m ever in the dating pool again.
Four million new bras are produced every day. Wow. All that, and I still can’t find one I like.
Scientists have never been able to figure out why human females have full breasts even when they aren’t breastfeeding. Science tell us that all other primates’ boobs deflate when not in actual use. I would submit that ours do the same thing. It’s called “middle-age.”
26 years ago, the average women wore a 34B. Now she’s buying a 34DD. Same rib cages, bigger cha-cha’s. So are we getting bigger boobs (undoubtedly due to a male-discovered mutation) or are we stuffing our bras with gel cookies? Anyone?
85% of women are wearing the wrong size. (Well, if we’re claiming to be 34DD and we’re actually a 34B, that would explain that.)
65% of woman have one boob that’s larger than the other. And it’s usually on the left. Boy, science gets right down to it.
Nipplegasms are a real thing. You’ll have to Google this one yourself.
Bras, as we know them, have only existed since the 20s. Ida and William Rosenthal, from Maidenform, created the first version of what we wear today. Until then, women bound their chest with cloth or bandages. Thank you, Mr. and Ms. Rosenthal.
Boobs are made up of milk and fat. If you’re not lactating, they’re mostly fat, ligaments, and connective tissue. These ligaments lose their memory yarn over the years, and like a over-stretched rubber band, eventually resemble wet sock puppets on a clothesline.
And my personal fave: Studies show that male cognitive functions diminish after they see pictures of large breasts. I’m thinking this would be the perfect time to show Hubs the fabulous, but wildly expensive, and no-they-weren’t-on-sale boots you bought last week.
The most disturbing fact I uncovered is that our boobs age faster than the rest of our body. Awesome. But it got me to thinking about the lifeline of our boobs as we age.
The early years: The only boobs we formally recognize belong to our mother. For the first few years, we look just like our young playmates, and being naked from the waist up at the pool is totally acceptable.
Ages 10-20: We go from Just sprouting. What do I with these? to When am I going to get my first bra? to Hell, yeah, I’ve got boobs. By the end this decade, we also become aware that boobs have mysterious powers over men.
Ages 20-30: By now we’re “fully growed,” and these things are great. Men love them. I feel sexy. I buy bras simply for their added sex appeal. I kind of feel sorry for older women who need granny bras. Good thing that will never happen to me.
Ages 30-40: They’re still reasonably perky. But is that a stretch mark? And why does the right one look larger than the left one? Maybe I just need a different bra.
Ages 40-50: Definitely seeing the effects of gravitational pull. What the hell is happening, and how do I stop it? Saving my lacy “do me” bras for the bedroom and scouring Nordstrom for “full coverage” bras, with the occasional push-up cookies for date night. That ought to do it. Yeah, I still got it.
Ages 50-60: Seriously?? The sisters are headed south with the determination of migratory geese in the winter. Summarily toss all bras without underwire to get them up, side panels to shove them forward, and padding to make them look fuller. All this, and I still look sexier in the bra than out of it. Naked is not an option.
Ages 60-70: “Sexy” is no longer a consideration. Bras need flak-jacket construction. My bras are on a mission, with a job to do. When they no longer perform, they get replaced. I’m The Donald of bra buyers. “You’re fired” applies to every bra that isn’t built to withstand gravity and six decades of poor lifestyle choices.
Ages 70+: What bra?? I wear a boob belt.
And I still got it.
Hubs and I live in a little one-story house, right next door to a guy who lives upstairs in his parents’ home. We’re renovating our house, which necessitated taking the blinds down from the bedroom window for a couple of weeks, causing us to be highly back lit if we ever had the bedroom light on after dark. If the neighbor kid happened to be looking, he’d get a full-frontal view of me from the waist up.
One night, I forgot and walked out into the bathroom in my 59-year-old birthday suit. We suddenly heard a huge crash outside. Hubs looked out the window and said, “I think the neighbor just fell off his deck trying to get a look.”
“That,” I replied, “or he went blind and tried to kill himself.”
We may never know.