We must protect the public from the peril of loose breasts. Those darn things pop up in the least likely places! Your neighborhood coffee house. A supermarket. Right there on the street, in broad daylight. No child is safe from the danger of… breastfeeding.
Facebook has joined the fight for public decency by removing photos of breastfeeding mothers, with a warning that they might be kicked off the service altogether if they continue posting pictures of their obscene habits. The battle lines have been drawn firmly around the nipples, apparent spearheads of female indecency.
The barebreasted warriors responded by staging a breastfeeding siege at the Facebook headquarters in Palo Alto, CA.
Really, what’s with this fearful fascination with breasts? Is it that the most of the middle aged people that make laws around here these days grew up in the bottle-happy 50’s? Remember Attorney General Ashcroft & his $8,000 drapes spent to cover the exposed breast of the statue of Justice? Indeed, Justice was hidden until he left the post…
I can kind of get men – poor guys, they’re terrorized and tantalized by the all-mighty breasts we wag under their noses all their lives, like an ultimate (booby) prize. (Sorry… I just can’t help myself. Puns are exploding my head.) But why do American women cringe at the sight? It’s not like they never saw one before.
After the infamous Janet Jackson’s 2004 wardrobe malfunction, there was a wildfire of public outcry & a swift retribution. In fact, President signed a tenfold increase in indecent exposure fines, largely in response to this incident. (They are getting away! They are getting away!) Who today still remembers the bloody beheading of an American hostage in Iraq that was broadcast on all the networks that same month? Something’s wrong with this picture.
On the lighter side, if you’re a big breasted woman in America, here is a fun exercise for ya. Believe me, it works every time :-).
Get yourself a bra with a major push-up power, and a form fitting top that “accidentally” shows that dangerous cleavage. Then, go to any innocuous place with a moderate concentration of the well meaning intellectual men over 40 – a local coffee house, an academic cocktail party, a museum. Now, pick a man, any man, and try to talk to him. You’ll have endless fun watching him trying to look at your face, and being inexorably, magnetically drawn down to your boobs like a bunny hypnotized by approaching… headlights. Don’t be mean, now – poor honeys can’t help themselves.
Congratulations. You just made someone’s day.
Being a woman, I find it nice to have a pair of such wondrous, magical toys at my disposal. Have ‘em, like ‘em, show ‘em, share ‘em, have fun with ‘em. But I do wonder sometimes if Afgani women have as much fun letting their ankles peek under their burkhas, and what does that thought say about us…