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Out at dinner this weekend, my husband and I were with a good “couple friends” and the conversation turned to breasts. This happens a lot – usually around “boob o’clock,” as my friends say, which is apparently around 11 p.m. or the third glass of wine, whichever comes first.
The reason this topic comes up a lot is, well, first of all – boobs are everywhere, all the time. Women hang them out these days during everything from a business meeting to Saturday shopping with the kids. And trust me, if I had them, I would hang them out, too.
So back to our conversation – I’m not really sure exactly how it came about but we started discussing my deep, not-so-secret desire for a more ample bosom and the conversation turned to plastic surgery. My friends are of the “why not if it makes you happy” line while my husband is “I don’t think it will really make you happy” and “why do you need other men to look at you” school of thought.
We have a lot of back and forths on this subject – often and, while I joke – too much – about getting the surgery, deep down I think my husband is right. I would love – love – love to have some cleavage but in my heart I can’t figure out why. As the male-half of our couple friend said,
“If it makes you happy, do it – I just don’t understand why you need them. You are a successful, smart and good looking woman, who cares about boobs?”
To which I said,
“YOU guys do… all the time, everywhere, you are always talking about them, looking at them (online and off) and obsessing over them.” Case in point – from Twitter today.
But you know what – he’s right – and so is my husband. Deep down I hate myself for not loving myself more the way I am. Who cares about bigger boobs? What do I care that men obsess over them? Why do I have this underlying desire for getting them? Will they enhance my life? Will they make me more confident and happy?
The honest truth is I don’t know. I have a full life – successful career, motherhood, health, family, friends, etc. So why does my chest size matter??
What do you think – do Wicked Smart Women get boob jobs?
Don’t be an asshole. Just…don’t.
If you have to ask yourself, “am I being rude here?” then yes, you probably are. If you never ask yourself that question you most definitely are.
Here are some examples:
- Don’t drive drunk.
- Don’t neglect your children.
- Don’t cheat on your spouse just to feel temporarily attractive.
- Don’t act like you’ve never made the same mistake you are accusing someone else of.
- Don’t be condescending – you really don’t know it all.
- Don’t forget – you’ve made mistakes, too.
…and I should know! Here are a few moments that have shaped who I am today but some of them I could definitely have lived without. (Note – definitely not “commanding” moments here). Try not to spit beer out your nose while laughing.
1. I moved to Boston in a six horse-horse trailer. Uh-huh, that’s right…driving right down Mass. Ave in Cambridge (well, actually my Dad was driving…and this was after college…not for college!). It was like a scene from the freakin’ Beverly Hillbillies. When my new roommates (I was subletting from an older man) came out to help me unpack…well, let’s just say that 40-year-old-German Scientists were not pleased to be pulling boxes out of a stinky horse trailer with some remnants of manure. I’m not kidding.
2. In college I was totally broke. My parents wouldn’t help me with a car and I had a job I needed to get to in order to pay for school. Luckily for me, a coworker got engaged and her boyfriend bought her a shiny new car so she sold hers to me for $25.00! Again, I’m not kidding. It had no muffler but it did have a hole in the floor – I could actually see the road when I was driving! But it worked!
3. The day after homecoming my senior year in high school, I was at work and a classmate came in. When he saw me he yelled – loudly, while pointing –
“Oh my GOD, our homecoming queen works at McDonald’s!”
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