Marilyn Monroe once said, No one ever told me I was pretty when I was younger. All little girls should be told they are pretty, even if they arent.
I suppose that is but one of the millions of reasons I identify with my idol.
Growing up being told you look like Liza Minnelli when you are dying to look like Marilyn was hardly music to my ears. Once, while dropping off my girlfriend, her father commented on my larger than average nose and compared me to Barbara Streisand. I cried for hours. Babs has the voice (and attitude) of God, but try explaining that to a nine year old who listens to Madonna.
And so, my obsession with the beauty I wanted to be began. Unlike other little girls, my bedroom was a dressing room and my closet, a boudoir. You see, the movie-star-in-training role was something I took very seriously. Thinking homework was for the average, I spent my time flipping through every Marilyn Monroe book I could get my hands, practicing every pose she made.
My peers played house while I played Oscars, and dress-up was taken to a whole other level when I discovered, at the ripe old age of seven, that socks could be folded--just so-- to make a pair of remarkable breasts. The obsession with my nose faded into a desire for a heaping bosom. Excited to be one step closer to Marilyn-hood, I ran out of my room and into the living room where my conservative grandfather sat, horrified, as I showed off my newly curvy shape.
Socks are to be placed on your feet only, young lady, he scolded.
Crushed, I did as I was told and pulled them out, reminding him very matter-of-factly that I knew very well that when girls grew up no one made them take out their socks.
At twenty-three I was still having the same argument.
Why in the world are there tube socks in your bra? asked my boyfriend with a different-yet-similar horrified look.
Unable to explain myself in the eloquent manner I had been able to so many years before, I decided upon a more direct approach.
Shut up, I said, adding If you tell anyone, I will tell them about your cartoon obsession, freak.
Ok, he said. But thats false advertising.
Hmmcould that be true? I thought, and thought nothing more about it.
False advertising got you into clubs and free flowers from street vendors. Besides, honesty is good in relationships, alls fair in the war between au natural and vixen.
The socks were working until one night, while dancing to Madonna (the more things change, the morewell, you know) I did a dipody-do-boom-boom and the next thing I knew, my left breast slithered right up my clavicle.
Oh my G-d! my girlfriend screamed.
Whats wrong?! I asked, expecting to hear of an evil ex crashing the soiree or a hottie A-lister making a scene.
Um, LOOK! she yelled pointing at my chest.
I looked down, only to see a bone-white tube sock flopped out of my chest. The bouncer stared. The music died. People froze.
Something had to be done.
By a doctor.
My girlfriend wrote down the name of her augmentation fairy. Dr. Saucy. This was the number to have. Dr. Saucy was responsible for half of the Baywatch babes and every other trophy wife in Beverly Hills.
He was also known to bequite, hands on.
Three long conversations later, Dr. Saucy agreed to fondle my breasts during a free consultation. Within an hour, we had flipped through more porn magazines than a seventeen year old gas station attendant and BOOM! My 32Ds were found. Thank you Jenny McCarthy, your knockers were quite the inspiration.
Put these in your bra, said Dr. Saucy
In they went.
Turn to the side, he instructed.
To the side I turned.
It was then I witnessed the true effect of large breasts on a man. Oh, yes, wow, he said.
They will be delicious.
Did he just say delicious?!
After a few squeezes, an extremely close examination and a ripping of my paper robe that made me feel like I was a damsel in a romance novel, Dr. Saucy and I were in his back office talking surgery and payment.
It seems I would get a discount either by going out with him or bringing in a friend. Luckily a great pal of mine was as flat and breast-obsessed as I was. She was also just as nutty.
Soon, my gal pal was in the office getting squeezed. A week later, we had D-cups.
Getting boobies is a bittersweet experience. On the one hand, HELLO BIG BOOBIES!
On the other, HELLO BALLOONS HAVE JUST BEEN SHOVED THROUGH MY BELLY BUTTON, UP MY INTESTINES AND UNDER A MUSCLE INSIDE OF MY BODY.
We spent a week in bed together, high on Vicodin, massaging our swollen, painful melons. Soon, we were comparing cleavage and trying on new clothes. One look at our girls in matching demi bras and we agreed, it was worth it.
At our check-ups, Dr. Saucy (and his ever-changing supply of male interns) agreed that they were, in fact, delicious. He insisted we come into the office together, so he could compare.
Now, the feminists out there might say that my decision perpetuated female stereotypes and adhered to the male standard of beauty. To all those who criticize me, I say
Yes! Posted: 6/6/2005by: Rabbelrauser Yessss!! YES! Posted: 6/6/2005by: Rabbelrauser Yesssss!!! You are so sweet Posted: 6/1/2005by: Brenda Della Casa I have a crush on you too :) I Have A Crush on Brenda Posted: 5/30/2005by: Rabbelrauser Not because she got a boob job, I'm attracted to her brilliant intellect. I don't even know what she looks like either.
I bet this seems creepy.
Dammit.
Oh well, I'm bored. Nice (boob)Job Brenda Posted: 4/25/2005by: Fellmonster I think boring jen has a carrot up her ass, maybe she wants new hoo-bobs but is afraid of doctors. Or maybe she has flappy 38EEs that drag.
The reason people augment their chests or why I spent $6G on penis enlargement (3 for length and 3 for girth) is not so that other people will be happy with our bodies, but because our ex-es made us feel like worthless piles of shit. Work that sweater girl! *yawn* Posted: 4/25/2005by: jen this article isnt even funny. why do the guys get funny articles, and the girls get some overly-long discourse about someone's tube socks... BORING.... its fine.. Posted: 4/25/2005by: annon By the way.. Your nose looks fine.. you're a pretty gal Who are you kidding Posted: 4/21/2005by: kyle Mcclain, some other idiot, and some other douche....come on. You're not fooling anyone with you're multi-chapter comments about fake boobs ruining the population yadi yadi yada, you love boobs, be them real or fake, just as much as the next man. So, how 'bout this you tools, you know you'd stare the shit out of em if they were in your face, so shut the fuck up and love Brenda for her great boobs...uh, I mean her reason for getting them. Pacino Pleasure Posted: 4/21/2005by: Brenda Della Casa Dear Al Pacino--Everybody knows my fake boobies are for your real pleasure :)
Ok...now that someone brought up Al, I have to go watch Donnie Brasco and have some alone time in my room... manager Posted: 4/21/2005by: DAve I love fake tities
