There is this horrible commercial that comes on the radio on a New Orleans station I listen to sometimes. It features husbands, talking about how great it is that their wives got a breast enhancement.
I appreciate the value of a kick butt body. When I was working out, and my BMI moved from obese to overweight (yippee!...and I'll never truly be normal weight, as I wasn't even when I was skinny...I'm just too muscular and curvy to fit on the chart), I loved my body. I felt like I could do anything. Now that I am pregnant, and my BMI has jumped back up to borderline (although it's frozen there...and I should gain more but cannot manage to), I'm scared. Scared of being fat. Scared my boobies will droop even more. (Is that really possible?) Scared of not feeling like I can do anything.
I don't even oppose boob jobs. Personally, I'd love a reduction and lift. I probably would never take the risk of surgery, but given the torturous level of back pain I am currently experiencing, I'll never say never. And if you have no boobies, I can understand the desire to fit clothes properly.
What I oppose, I guess, is the presumption in the commercial that boob jobs are for the husbands. Um, no. When I worked out, I'm sure Alan enjoyed the effects. But the only part of working out that was for him was the part where I live longer for him. The body...that was for me!
Selfish? Heck yah! But husband gets the boobs he gets. And if he ever thought otherwise, even for a second, I'd be raging mad. :)
Etcetera.
1 comment:
I've been thinking about moving up to a C cup, but I can't decide.
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