Shocking Confession: I Like Boobs!

I like boobs! There it is. I said it. I know that I’ll probably be crucified in the press for it but I thought that it needed to be out there in the open. I understand that in modern American society the female form is sort of a taboo subject, something we tip-toe around and pretend to ignore. Why, just writing about this in a magazine is almost as unthinkably vulgar as posting a huge set of bazzongas on a billboard to promote the sale of…oh, I don’t know, let’s say light beer or paper towels. Could you imagine that?  The mere thought practically makes one swoon. Someone hand me the smelling salts. I think I need to sit down.

I don’t mean to pat myself on the back but I think that it takes a brave soul to admit to liking breasts simply for their own sake, but I’ve never been one to run with the crowd or follow fleeting fancies. I realize that from an early age we are taught that this female body part has no significance in our lives.  We are told over and over that appearances are not important.  "Only the mind matters" is something we are practically beat to death with again and agian. Let’s just say that I have something similar to x-ray vision that allows me to look through the book by a Nobel Prize winning author that a woman is reading to notice other things on her horizon, if you know what I mean. Most of you probably don’t know what I mean so I’ll say that I’m talking about breasts.   

Here’s another outrageous confession: Unlike most members of my gender, I’m not repulsed by large breasts. Whether they be delightful little handfuls or…how should I put this…more ambitious undertakings, all varieties are fine by me. I have no idea how I became the beast that I am. My peculiarities fly in the face of all societal norms, but then I have never courted popularity.