Friday, September 4, 2009
(Jane Mansfield's big tits and Sophia Loren taking a peek)
I have small tits. But I like them.
I can feel, when I walk in the room, the females looking at my breasts, noticing how big they are, or aren’t, asking themselves if they make me more pretty. I can feel this and I see it too. Nice to meet you, -their-eyes-at my chest-...um...ok.
It makes me wonder if guys would stare at each other crotches if they wore super, super tight jeans like girls do, where you could see the bulge.
I hate reading about celebrities having low self-esteem because of their tits being small. I roll my eyes again. I can’t admire someone who is only about appearances. I just can’t. I don’t care if someone is pretty, sure it feels great to dress up and put on a cute pair of shoes and feel gorgeous in a sleek dress, but I care more about: doing something for someone else. When I look at a female, I don’t think: oh she has nice boobs, she’s pretty, she’s lucky. Instead I think to myself: What is she leaving besides just a smell of perfume, or pin up posture, or their whine about their tits being not perfect or big enough?
I wish more women would love what they do have, work with, accept the challenge with energy over loving what they were born with, the confidence found in just saying “this is me, take it or leave it, this is me”…. yet instead I hear too much about women wanting to "change them selves.” Honestly. I wish more women would just love themselves.
Many style shows also bash women so badly. For drama sake. So much on TV is negative towards women, about how terrible someone is dressed and how someone superior can fix it. YAK, it is terrible! You don’t have to fit in a size 0 or have a C cup to be beautiful.
What if more women loved themselves and what they have? What would our world be like?
The obsession over boobs is crazy. I do remember photographers saying “you’d be perfect if you had bigger boobs.” And overhearing a photographer say “She’d be great if only she had implants”
I do have a curvy behind and if my boobs were slightly bigger sure I would be 100% proportioned, but screw it, I like my boobs. They fit me. I like my nips, and the shape of my boobs, it’s all fine to me. Whatever. I wear padded bras, and if I want my boobs to fit a sweater better or a dress I just put on a bra. The process of “getting implants” freaks me out. I can’t get my head around having something plastic, some sort of saline inserted under my skin. Cut, insert, and sew. I am not a rag doll. Think about it! Sticking a cutlet of plastic in your boob!!? No thanks mamma!
My boobs don’t make me. Or define me. I am more than my tits. I don’t judge a girl’s tits. I think confidence is working what you got, loving what you have, and knowing it's ok not to be the- girl -in- the -room -with- the -biggest, -fakest,- rounded- tits -ever. You are still worthy and a whole person.
Something squishy, curvy, and soft flesh does attract a man but I'd rather have him look at my eyes. Compliment my features beyond my boobs, ass, etc. I get more flattered, and feel prettier, when I am complimented on something I did, said, or created. What ever happened to that? What if women and men started to compliment more of people’s actions? Complimented a person on what they did for someone? What if pretty, meant the word giving. What if the definition of perfect meant loving what you “are” as a person, flaws and all? What if beauty was just waking up and saying “I mean more than only how I look today.”
Suddenly your purpose wouldn’t be based on pure appearances.
I personally feel more complimented when it is on something that I used my mind to create or my heart to affect.
It is nuts how some women obsess over boobs. Their own boobs, and stare at other women's boobs, compare, judge, jeez get off my tits!