Driving along I saw an unmistakable shape jutting off a woman’s silhouette. It was of course her boob, dressed in matte black but divorced from a female profile: like a shark fin in the desert, or a bustle on Mt. Rushmore. Was she a contortionist? How did she wind up in a position to send such a semaphore in such an utterly ungendered situation? I don’t know; but: it set me thinking.
There was no question but the woman had a boob, a top drawer appendage. I pictured her creeping down the hall at puberty, her arms pressed to her sides, her books cradled against her belly, starring down at her burgeoning female phenoms: appreciating them herself, but humiliated: there was no way to hide them! Everyone could see! Not only the boy she wanted to notice, but everyone! The riffraff, the teachers, the janitor!
No male can be more proud of his dick than I am of mine. And my dick started showing itself at inopportune times, oh, around the sixth or seventh grade, and on, and on, into eighth grade, ninth grade … The girls used their books to cover up their boobs while also holding them up and shoving them out; the boys used their books to cover awkward erectile manifestations. But: the girls’ boobs were there, still growing, whether they propped them up with their arms squeezed tight to their ribs or whether they dressed in a nun’s habit. Whereas the marauding phallus went away most of the time.
How could I have attained the age of sixteen let alone eighteen if my monster had been on parade while I was running the mile? While I was playing cards with Lenny?
Why didn’t nature give this girl inflatable boobs? so she could fill them up and aim them at Johnny Depp, or deflate them, fold them aside, so she could stand close to the oven to look at her cake?
Damn inefficient. Sexist nature.
Picasso’s Phallic Franco
link to sims reed rare books evaporated, but look it up. Picasso!
When I was an undergraduate Columbia’s Fine Arts Department mounted a Picasso show in the Fine Arts Building. I’d seen lots of Picassos by 1957, but never any of his insults to Franco as a big prick. Marvelous. I’ll keep my eyes open for a giant boob, especially if it suggests a giant boob inflatable for display, foldable away for storage. But here’s a limmerick meantime:
There once was a girl from Knizes
Whose breasts were of two different sizes.
One boob was so small it was no boob at all
But the other was huge, and won prizes.