Thursday, April 10, 2008

Sex Sells

Can you tell if they are real?

It never ceases to amaze me when men think that breast implants are real. Do they honestly believe that the really thin women they see just happen to have large breasts? Sometimes I am sitting with S or P and other folks we know and are discussing different people we know. My husband is pretty clueless about this and, with the exception of the picture above, will always assume they are real.
Them: "They must be real....she is young"
Me: "Nope"
Them: "But they look so lifelike"
Me: "Nope"
Them: "But then why aren't they bigger?
Me: "ARGHHH"
That last comment is said with the intent of making say "arghhh"

Breasts have become the object of speculation and of the scoring mentality that seems to go along with all of the statistical analysis of sports. And of course plastic surgery has become so attainable that many many women are doing more and more. And who cares really. If it make them happy and within the bounds of reason (maybe not the lovely lady above).

Could the uber thin Victoria Beckham really be this thin and have the breasts she does? Nope (hint this is a link).

Men are so easily conned. Really. Women usually know. Do you think it is just because they really want to believe?

Now for those of you who are thinking what the heck???!!! This is not her blog topic! You are correct. The thing that got me thinking about this is a Wall Street Journal article from today's paper about this woman named Armstrong who started a blog(click here). She is apparently making a fortune. Her husband actually quit his job to manage the post. (Are they living in a box? No, apparently). Her site is supposed to be racy and her sense of humor really hilarious. Personally, I am not certain that her writing or blogging is any better than the great ones I have read--especially Magpiemusing and kathylikespink and all the other blogs I aim to add to my list of favs. Magpie is the one who inspired me!

Personally if I knew THE Wall Street Journal, the best newspaper in the land, was profiling my blog, I would have had one of my best posts. She must have had one million hits today.

Anyhow, I have done religion, politics and the one other thing I haven't yet discussed was sex...so why not. Although, are these breasts related to sex? I guess not really....That will have to wait for another post. Maybe the one about what happens to those pendulous items as we age. One of our friends mentioned his ex just had a "blow out". Yep, it ruptured. Now, this is someone who is so scared of cancer and other illnesses she is probably on drugs for her hypochondria, and yes, she still took the risk and got them. The others just fall down to your knees as you age. (The breasts not the exes). Either way--not a great look.

As for plastic surgery--I am all for it. If you have the dough and won't regret it and are willing to take the risk, why not. I work in NYC so just traveling to the office is a risk. So if my friend and I do finally take that (ahem) vacation and return looking "refreshed", you will guess why....or maybe not if you are a guy.


Speaking of posts, I want some action....let's see a few of you guys hit the post button and write to me. Is anyone out there?




3 comments:

helensw5 said...

Okay, I clicked on your blog and my 8 yr old daughter walked in the room and peeked over my shoulder. I too can say ARGHHHH!!! (It was funny though) I don't know where you found that photo, but I hope it was a Hollywood FX-type site. Yes men can be oblivious, but I have no gay-dar (say it like radar) so I guess I can't talk.

Anonymous said...

I had to get to your post. It's hysterical! I also glanced at the WSJ piece, but didn't get to read the whole thing. I did like the part about printing out emails and running the printouts over with her car. I'm thinking I might have to do that with some of MY emails before I actually click "Send."

Magpie said...

Hi!

Someone emailed me a different picture just the other day - same concept, different photoshop job.

And thanks for favorably comparing me to Dooce. Can I quit my job?