Women with perfectly nice ta-ta’s are ruining them with breast implants and it’s all Hollywood’s fault.
Sure, I can see hitting up your local silicone or saline dealer if your left side is a C cup and your right side is, well, a 12-year-old boy. But pumping a happy set of A cups to D cups for the hell of it is wrong.
Hollywood sets the beauty trends for the world, much more so than New York or Paris. And for whatever reason, the place seems to hand out a new set of boobies with every SAG card they issue.
People get all bent out of shape about Wal-mart and Mc Donald’s slowly turning this country into one big homegenous land of conformity. I can understand their concerns.
But this is a bigger problem. We are slowly recasting healthy, nubile women into plasticized dead zones of boring lolly pop body shapes.
Just pull a movie from the 70’s or very early 80’s and start comparing the female forms. It was a lush landscape in those heady days of gratuitous nudity.
Those movies are filled with a great number of slick minxes which are sadly on the verge of extinction now.
If an actress had boobs larger than C cups then, she also had a rich quarter inch of fat slathered over her limbs. That’s the way it should be.
The last movie to really tackle this subject in any serious fashion was Weird Science.
In it, our brave heroes are given the opportunity to create the ultimate woman.
“Nothing bigger than a handful or you might sprain your tongue,” was their determination.
Out pops Kelly LeBrock. She was brunette perfection in those days. The accent and the fact that she’s most likely a whip cracking Republican pushes her from the edge of hotness into the land of impossibility where steel flows like water and Vanderbilt wins the SEC.
Unfortunately, Hollywood wasn’t listening. Boob jobs became cheap when doctors started offering payment plans after 1985 and the assault on genetics kicked into high gear. Suddenly, everyone had them.
There was a valiant fight put up by B cup warrior Gwen Stefani in 1995, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tide. Instead of following Stefani’s sleek and sophisticated sexiness, the world kept enhancing itself into retardom. Case in point: the Tara Reid breast explosion at the start of the new millenium.
Ah… There is some one for the women of today to emulate, Tara Reid.
But who is going to make sure we maintain a healthy mix of female body types?
Like all social revolutions, you have to think globally and act locally.
Personally, just last week I started my own one man campaign to preserve the athletic fox and modest breasted matress thrasher. Every time I saw a smaller breasted woman I said to her, “You little boobies are fantastic. Thousands of men would like to do sexy things to you. Be a proud member of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee.”
The responses prove how deeply brain washed A cup and B cup women have become.
“Fuck you, creep.”
“Don’t touch me.”
“Why the hell would you say to me in front of my children?”
Others simply hosed my face with pepper spray. One had security remove me from Memorial City Mall. I’m now banned from Victoria’s Secret.
That’s why I think we need to get Hollywood to stop the small boob genocide they created. One man can’t do it on his own.
If Hollywood can create shows like Glee that make singing losers seem cool, I have faith that through the power of casting they can preserve the small breasted body.