Boob Variations

Listening to: Silence, strangely enough.

Mood: On.

Daddy G and I were having one of our chats in bed before falling asleep recently, and got to talking about boobs. And please, no harassment about calling them boobs. If I want to talk about breasts, I’ll go find my gyno, mmkay? Anyhow, this is one of the few times when I have Daddy G’s undivided attention, so the conversations are usually pretty entertaining.

Daddy G is an unapologetic (yet very much closeted, thanks to being Indian) boob guy. He has been for as long as I’ve known him, which is going on 12 years now.  For some reason, we got to talking about how men have a tendency to look at other women and compare and fantasize. Specifically at boobs, because that’s what Daddy G is most interested in.

This has never bothered me a bit. I have a rule that as long as it’s just looking and not touching, you’re home free.  He observed that it seemed to be strictly a guy thing and wondered what women have to compare and fantasize about. He even ventured that women don’t do that, because after all, what outward body part do we have to do that with?

I looked at him amused for a minute and then said that yes, I think women do that quite a bit more often than he thinks.  “But with what?” was his stuttered, curious reply. I admitted that being ladies, we probably don’t size up every.single.last. man we see on the street. Or sometimes we do, because when you gotta have it, you look at everyone.  This brought uncomfortable laugh from him because women being overtly sexual? Makes the man damn uncomfortable. I went on to say that we do occasionally wonder what a guy is packing in those jeans. After all, no two packages are wrapped quite the same. I then countered that I didn’t see what was so fascinating about boobs. They’re not all that different aside from obvious size differences.

Daddy G looked amazed that I didn’t get this and then launched into no fewer than 15 different variations in boobs that boob guys pay attention to. I can’t even remember them all because I was rolling on the ground laughing.

Mother nature saw fit to curse me with big boobs after I had my kids.In case you didn't notice, I’m pretty unimpressed with the whole thing. The funny thing is, Daddy G doesn't get all that crazy about mine unless we’re outside and my shirt is either too tight, too low cut, or see through, and not in a good way. In a quietly hissed “Why did you wear that shirt outside? All the guys on the street are staring!” way. Boob guy indeed.

What do you think ladies? Am I the only one who wonders occasionally what a guy is packing in those slacks? Gentlemen, are there really that many variations on boobs, asses, and legs?  Weigh in.

Becky

The Fighting Philosophers

Listening to: I’m Walking Away – Craig David (A coincidence, I swear! Not walking away from anything.)

Mood: In a serious procrastination funk. I have family coming over tomorrow and I’m pulling an ostrich

I got to talking to the hubby the other day about a health initiative in his company to get people talking about seeing health care providers to get checkups. To be sure, I have no part in corporate anything. I work but I’m a contractor, so the only office politics I have to deal with are my own. When my husband was telling me about this initiative my nose immediately wrinkled up in distaste. Why would a company care at all if people saw a doctor. I’m not talking about caring about their bottom line if employees are ill, I’m talking about actually caring as this was how it was being passed off as. My dear husband argued that the company did care about people. My husband is a corporate suit (and I love him for it), so he kind of has to drink the Kool-aid, for which I tease him on a regular basis. I called bull. We had a very spirited discussion about corporate motivations and being aware of others’ motivations. It later morphed into a discussion on social responsibilities.

I love having these chats with my husband. He is one of the very few people that I can have adult type intelligent conversations. We can disagree without anything being thrown, even though our views on things are quite often opposite. I am constantly reminded that my husband and I see eye to eye on many practical things like child raising, money, etc. Once we get into theoretical and philosophical territory, we couldn’t be more different on many, many things.

During our conversation, my husband looked at me in surprise and said that he couldn’t believe how much of a cynic I was. I looked back in equal surprise and wondered how we had been married for this long without that being glaringly obvious. I do believe I was born a cynic who grew into a realist. I replied back that I couldn’t believe that for an educated realist, he wasn’t more of a cynic. In this case ladies and gentlemen, a half empty glass on one side and a half full one on the other doesn’t equal a balance.

I’m glad we can have these discussions, even though the only things we walk away with are a better understanding of each other and the pleasure of having a good brisk discussion.  I always feel blessed when I’m reminded that I have a husband who respects me for who I am (well, most of the time anyways!) and that encourages me to always be better.

How do you deal with these kind of differences? Ignore them? Have rousing fights where you’re both throwing things and yelling? Discuss calmly and academically? Tell me, I’d love to hear your stories.

Becky