Ode to Boobies.
Boobies, boobies, I love you.
Boobies, boobies, you come in two.
Boobies, boobies, I want more.
Boobies, boobies, I’m, uh… on the floor?
A pair of you is all I need.
Give me boobs I’ll give you weed.
I like wimmins with their boobs.
I like the tops that are tubes.
I like boobies big or small.
I like wimmins short or tall.
This poem’s dumb and so am I.
If I don’t get boobies I think I’ll cry.
Yay for boobies.
Except beaver tail boobies. Them’s grody.
–Tim
Well, 44DD here. I love my boobs. My BF loves my boobs. Sometimes I’m worried he loves me for my boobs (He he J/K) But I don’t understand beautiful women with wonderful breasts who spend thousands of dollars to become D’s or DD’s. That doesn’t make sense to me at all.
If I made a list of 100 attributes I look for in a woman…
breast size doesn’t make the list.
Yeah, Pepper, self-mutilation for the sake of “beauty” is totally gross. They don’t look real. They don’t feel real. (I was poked in the back by an inflated woman. THAT’s how I know. Okay?) And they can’t be comfortable.
I blame Disney. “The Little Mermaid” accelerated this whole trend of self-mutilation to land a man. “Ooh! He won’t like me the way I am! I must be surgically modified and stop talking for him to marry me!” Sheesh.
There’s nothing like having three daughters to sensitize a man to this sort of thing.
Clearly you will need someone to enforce your club’s rules, and weed out the women who do not belong, as well as the guys that you don’t want in your club.
With this in mind, I offer you my services as a…um…bouncer. 
But seriously: Breast size is overrated to any guy with a brain. That doesn’t mean that voluptousness is bad, but in and of itself should not have much of a correlation with a woman’s attractiveness to a guy.
In the recent (and unofficial) “boob contest” here in the Pit, I stated (as a response to a poster who felt her boobs didn’t exactly measure up to some others) that any breast, no matter how big or how small, is only as good as the person it’s attached to.
A woman with large breasts may act like an egotistical bitch, and as such, her breasts also become unattractive.
A woman with not-quite-so-large (read: small) breasts may be a very kind, warmhearted, and fun person, and as such, her breasts also take a share of this niftyness.
So fear not, ye ladies who just happen to have a bit less fat in those funny lil’ lumps o’ yours! Believe me, a breast is a breast… the big ones get lots of attention, but remember: so do airplane crashes. 
Stands up and shows her small breasts. Almost a B but shy just enough to fill out an A cup too much, ugh.
I am a charter member of the Itty Bitty Titty Commitee
I forgot to add, it’s damn hard to find a bra that fits me. Don’t you know it, I find one and they discontinue it.
Personality wins hands down. Breast size is meaningless.
Well, in my time I have been shopping at both ends of the lingerie department, having been a despairing AA cup all through high school and well into my 20’s. (I even put Kleenex into my bra in the 9th grade. One time. But when I intercepted a glance from a boy looking at my chest “that way”, I was furious–he’d never bothered to notice me before. I never did it again. Hah. That’ll show him.)
However, it’s amazing what pregnancy will do to your cup size, and after three of them, well…
P.S. Um, what’s a “beaver tail boobie”? Am I correct in assuming it’s what I would call a “grandma flattie”?
P.P.S. Why is this thread in the Pit?
Try looking in L.A., or soon, Seattle! That’s where this guy lives/will live. I think A-cups and B-cups are the best. Disclaimer: Package must include brain and a sense of humour.
Oblio, How’s Arrow doing? Give him a scratch behind the ears for me.
Sorry if us genetic freaks [read:large breasted women] get more attention sometimes. The extra “baggage” does come with problems too, like there’s no such thing as a good sprots bra now that I’m no longer small breasted. [explanation: for some reason, my breast growth went on a sabbatical for a number of years, then decided to magically make the size jump up two cups within a 3 month period. Ouch.] I know both sides of the story, and I think I’d like to go back down a size if it’d make life a bit less cumbersome for me.
I am another one of those guys who don’t care for big tits.
If anything, I have noticed that women with smaller breasts tend to end up with guys who . . . well, aren’t atracted to women purely for their bodies. So those of you who will never have trouble opening doors can rest assured that the numbers, if nothing else, are on your side.
My mother, for instance, is a member of the IBTC. I don’t know her exact size (that would just be disgusting, knowing one’s mother’s bra size) but I do know she is small. And found, I think, a decent guy.
Anyway. Hope this helps.
Growing up, I was (for lack of a better word) “plain”. Bad skin, overweight. But I had those big boobies from grade 7. They were a curse. Some of the other girls were annoyed with me, the boys stared at me, but were also angry with me. (How dare I have big boobies but be so “plain”? What a perfectly good waste of big boobies!) It was no picnic.
I have developed a personality, believe-you-me. I actually have a brain, and talents. I’ve had to - I couldn’t slide by on my looks, that’s for sure. Nothing ever came gift-wrapped to me because of my boobs. (Well, maybe I got a car repair “discount” once or twice, but that’s all I can remember.) I’m not quite so “plain” now, but no beauty queen, never will be. And maybe if I had grown up being really beautiful, AND with boobs, I’d have an “attitude”. But I really am glad that it didn’t work out that way. Good looks fade, boobs sag. Talents and brains are forever.
I knew more pretty, flat-chested girls with an “attitude” than I ever had. Their prettiness opened all sorts of doors for them. I just got treated as if I had a lot of nerve being plain and having a great set of boobs anyway. Life is shitty like that. Be grateful for what you have.
I must have went to the wrong school, because I hit puberty in 5th grade, and NONE of the boys EVER stared at my boobs once…
PLG, you lived in Utah, no? Quelle surprised about that
FWIW I hit puberty some time around frosh year of HS.
Hmm… it sorta started out as a rant then turned into a support group.
I would have moved it sooner, but sometimes it’s hard to keep abreast of these things.
I swear this is the second time you’ve used that “abreast” pun in the last week…or maybe that was someone else…
Damn you Myrr21 for beating me to that pun! And this from the pun . . . wait, I already decided that wasn’t my nickname. Oh well. Now back to the OP: semi-support group (no pun intended here) for those who have no trouble opening doors.