I had a long conversation the other day with a young woman. She’s barely in her 20s and the epitome of nubile. And she hates her breasts. Of course.
In her estimation, her 32DDs don’t look like they did when she was younger. Her heartbreak was evident as she knew she was staring down the path of continued aging and her wish to look 19 forever would become more or less a joke. I didn’t laugh at her. I could feel her pain.
I felt my self-imposed gag order more than ever in that moment. I wanted to show her there was a classy, respectful, cheeky place on the internet that showcases breasts of all kinds — and every week, no less! But I was mute. I cannot reveal my secret sex blog, even for the benefit of one affected girl.
She will have to come to the conclusion that her body is sacred, perfect in its own ways, without the small benefit of Boobday and its loyal followers and participants. Hopefully, with age, she will come to see that our reverence of the preternatural 19 year old “look” is truly a farce and that men of all ages and around the world love us in all our stages of life.
Here’s to that girl. I’m glad I’m no longer her.
NOT my tits: