The arrival of breasts marks coming into womanhood and sexuality. Their importance in nourishing life is largely overshadowed by their sexual aspect, but both are critical for many women in their sense of being female.
Breasts can be anything from tiny nubs – the fried egg shape, the small plum, through to watermelon proportions. Being small has its uses if you want to run anywhere, but not all women with small breasts are comfortable with them. Being big might give you porn star fetish credibility, but they weight a lot, can cause back ache, get in the way of doing. Whatever their shape and size, breasts inform a woman’s sense of self and worth, and all the world seems willing to judge and make demands about how those breasts should look.
I had an ex who loved me flaunting my cleavage, until I got involved with him. Then he wanted me to cover up, keeping that part of my body exclusively for him. Another ex, had a second girlfriend (back in the days when I was exploring polyamoury). Her breasts were easily twice the size of mine, and he commented on that a lot, which did my self esteem no good at all.
I happen to like breasts. In terms of bodily beauty I’m with every classical painter who ever lived on this one, and every marketing director: Frequently, the male body isn’t that aesthetically pleasing. Breasts, on the other hand, are inherently lovely and pleasing to the eye. But by this, I do not mean pumped up breasts, I very specifically mean real ones, in all their variety, large to small, sagging to perky, in any combination. Breasts are femininity made manifest, and all of them should be celebrated.
Here in the UK, we’re in the aftermath of a French company putting industrial grade silicon into women’s bodies. Thousands of women have had their bodies modified with sub standard material that could harm them. Now, some of those women were no doubt having reconstructive surgery in the aftermath of illness or injury, and I have no argument with that. Most, I expect, did it because they felt the breasts nature had bestowed upon them just weren’t good enough. Too small, to please all those men like that ex of mine who considered breast size to be the sole measure of a woman’s worth. Too small to be a porn star, a pin up, or these days, a regular pop artist or movie star. Or maybe they had breasts that showed they had carried and nourished a child. Not so perky, not like the breasts of a woman who has not given birth. And we all know that women are not supposed to look as though they’ve reproduced, that’s not sexy. Real isn’t sexy. Plastic, fake, and impossible is sexy. Going under the knife is, apparently, sexy. Having your body cut up and reshaped to fit in with other people’s expectation, is sexy. Bloody hell!
Of course the big argument for breast ‘enhancement’ is self esteem and tackling poor body image. Of course, if we lived in a culture where breasts were loved no matter what their size or shape, there would be far less reason for normal, healthy women to seek surgery.
So here’s my question to all you pagans. What does a goddess look like? Does a goddess have porn star tits, of back breaking proportions and gravity defying magic? Or does a goddess look like a real woman? I know what kind of world I want to live in. It’s one of the reasons that when I’m writing erotica, I don’t go in for crazy bodies. I’ve never written a woman with breast implants, nor would I. I love the way lesbian fiction already tends to celebrate real women, I just wish the mainstream would hurry up and catch on.
Love the breasts you have. Respect the breasts you encounter. Never judge a woman by her chest, and if a man tells you your breasts aren’t up to scratch, take this as clear evidence that he isn’t up to scratch and ditch him right there and then. The answer is not to be cut up and redesigned.