Grrrbear on boobs

When I first started this whole blogscapade, I figured my writings would be of passing interests only to those people who already knew who I was: friends from work, school, or family. But instead I found myself with an audience of complete strangers, who stumble across my blog and for some reason keep coming back for more. I thought these people were weird, but they seemed harmless enough so I didn’t pay much attention. But then, being the good Midwestern boy that I am I felt obligated to check out their blogs and it turns out they are cool people with interesting lives who are frequently as funny or funnier than I could ever be. And I think this is really part of the fun.

For instance, one of the blogs I stumbled across* had a posting about boobs and how the writer was mystified by how her husband was still as fascinated by then now as he was when she was a teenager. Frankly, I’m a bit mystified as to why women aren’t fascinated by them. George Carlin once did a bit about how it’s a good thing men don’t have boobs because if we did we’d sit around the house all day playing with them and never get jobs. Think about it and the scary thing is that you start thinking “Yeah, he’s got a point there”. In fact, some anthropologists might speculate that the reason men** get jobs to begin with is that we like interacting with boobs and desire to do so on a more regular basis. But boobs are fickle and generally don’t like hanging out*** with homeless dudes or at the guy’s mom’s house. So we get jobs to acquire the resources to support further boob studies. This leaves us with the following three truths, and their logical conclusion:

WHEREAS: Boobs are the foundation of most (if not all) economic activity – at least outside of butt-centric cultures (e.g. Mixalotland, People's Republic of Booty).

WHEREAS: Men use resources gained through their economic activity to gain access to more boobs – even if said activities will result in undesireable consequences (e.g. going to strip clubs, buying implants for the Canadian woman he’s dating over the web)

WHEREAS: Similar things have been said about the things people do to gain access to crack and crystal meth.

THEREFORE, it stands to reason that boobs must be just as addictive as crystal meth.

So why is this addiction so powerful? I have two theories. First, it goes back to babyhood. When men are babies (as when they are adults) we’re either happy or unhappy. When we’re happy we’re great. But when we’re cranky, or sad, or crying we can make life miserable for the women in our lives (i.e. mom or sig.other). When we’re babies however, whatever is making us upset will invariably be pushed aside in our mind when mom takes off her top and we nurse a little – even if we’re not really all that hungry. Think of it. One minute life is horrible, then, you see a boob, and life is great! This continues for months, years even – all through a boy’s babyhood.

I know what you’re thinking, ladies. “But women nurse too? Why aren’t we so fascinated by boobs like men are? We were just as happy to see them when we were babies, right? Huh? HUH? Where’s your precious little theory now smartypants?”

This is a fair point, but an easily answered one. Baby girls are probably just as enthralled by boobs when they are infants, but they also go through that wonderful experience of getting boobs themselves…and in junior high too. I don’t know what it’s like but I’ve seen enough teen television to get the idea****. Ordinary activities like jogging, playing jump rope, and competing in community trampoline contests are transformed overnight from fun and exciting events of skill and style into horrifically embarrassing "very special" episodes of teen angst. Not to mention the psychological torture of buying your first bra form some old lady at JC Penny and getting fitted for the first time. No wonder women lose their boob fascination.

Men, on the other hand, lose all access to boobs during their time of greatest awkwardness and pain - adolescence. This is the second theory: the supply of available boobs drops precipitously as a man gets older, thus increasing the value of whatever boobs a man *can* gain access to. It explains why 13 years old boys are constantly stealing glances at playboys, victorias secret catalogs, manniquins in the lingerie section of Macy's, anything they can find - all for the purpose of regaining the inner peace they got as babies. Their quest is usually futile - or even punished if they are caught - as our society has decided that teenage boys can only be exposed to boobs through PG-13 movies starring Amanda Peet (who I think has been topless in every movie she has ever been in). After the teen years, men begin dating with more sophistication and their success rate of getting actual boobs to play with increases proportionally. To the point where by the time we get married, we are allowed to play with them again much more than a typical 13 year old. However, having gone through the lean times of our teenage years we recognize their value and treat them like gold.

So, in conclusion. While men eventually grow up*****, we still carry around this Pavlovian response to seeing boobs. We can’t help it, we’re just the victim of years of psychological brainwashing into equating boobs with happiness and contentment. Don’t believe me, women of the world? Next time your boyfriend/husband is being difficult just show him your boobs. He may not admit that you’re right and he’s wrong but it will cause him to sit quietly for a few minutes to allow you to collect your thoughts.

*And now read regularly, darnit...*another* interesting person
**Straight men, at least
***No pun intended
****I know what happened to Soleil Moon Frye
*****Well, grow "older"