Worshipping the Almighty Boob

They are a natural part of your body, no big deal, something to hide, something to be ashamed of, bought in a doctor's office, something to flaunt, a prize, part of a show for entertainment, something to change, something that produces milk, an industry. They are an enigma.
10/15/2013 05:55 pm ET Updated Jan 23, 2014

I recently read an article about a celebrity describing her breasts after she had her first child. She described them as "disgusting." The comment felt like a dagger hurting my woman heart. As I strolled past the T-shirts in the grocery story in support of breast cancer awareness, I thought about women that very day that would get their diagnosis. Who would hear the fateful news that they would lose their breasts and would have to fight for their lives. Hearing a woman describe her breasts as if they were a gapping wound filled with maggots seemed so outrageous, trivial and bizarre in contrast. I thought about how we need to reexamine the whole way we look at boobs.

Can you imagine an alien coming to this Earth and seeing how our planet is obsessed with this particular body part? Humans have a love/hate relationship with breasts that would confuse the hell out of an extraterrestrial. In America especially, the alien wouldn't be sure how we feel about them. We are offended by breastfeeding, afraid we may see a nipple, but billboards advertise products using sexualized images of women in lingerie, barely clothed -- all younger, of course. Ads describe a new bra as if it is a scientific breakthrough with wires, padding and gel, the entire thing bedazzled in sparkles and lace. The goal is to keep the breast higher and appear bigger at all costs. Breasts sag, so we must defy gravity and spend over 50 dollars on the perfect bra until the newer one comes out.

If the alien looked around certain areas of the country, it would think all breasts are very high, completely round and often disproportionate to a woman's smaller body. The alien would soon realize our quest here for perfect breasts never ends. If the alien watched a nude scene from a film in the 1980s, it would see only real breasts, and conclude that skinny woman usually have small breasts. If you asked the alien whether we like breasts in America, what would the answer be?

He would say the men at Hooters and strip clubs do. But he wouldn't have a real idea about how women feel about them. Many ladies, if asked, would say they don't like their breasts. Or that they need a breast lift or implants after kids. There are also women who don't like their breasts because they are too big. Young females even get boob jobs for graduation presents in this country. Here, the perfect size for breasts is defined in a plastic surgeon's office. The quest for perfect breasts, our obsession with them and the need for them to look a certain way in order to be "perfect," starts early in our society. The focus on breasts and sexuality, the idea that our worth is dependent on our looks, is perpetuated on social media daily, as our culture follows celebrities' lives like they have some impact on our own.

The alien would go back to his planet with a picture from Instagram, telling his alien friends that this isn't even what people look like on Earth. They worship fake images and ideals, not celebrating being real. Beauty is equated with youth, rather than wisdom. We sure would seem superficial on the surface, but really we are not if he dug deeper and actually got to know us.

The insanity of the planets conflicting attitudes about breasts would make the alien think breasts are so many things. They are a natural part of your body, no big deal, something to hide, something to be ashamed of, bought in a doctor's office, something to flaunt, a prize,
part of a show for entertainment, something to change, a wonder, something that produces milk to feed offspring, ever-changing, sexy, something that is disgusting, mysterious, an industry, something that is big, small, round, long, dark, light, beautiful, and something you
can't describe or categorize. They are an enigma.

If the alien asked me about breasts, I'd tell him that they are ALL beautiful. They are actually like magic. Mine get so big when I have a baby that I look like I can feed a village. We, as women, can make milk, which is pretty freakin' amazing, really. When I am done nursing,
they magically go back to a normal size. I am not opposed to breast lifts, super bras or breast implants. I have friends with breast implants that look just like perky breasts of a 20-year-old. You can't help but stare because they look great. My point is not that they are breast implants are bad. But the idea that women hate their boobs because they don't look like the ones on the cover of a photoshopped magazine cover or some chick with brand new breast implants is crazy. They are a part of our bodies. Women, we have the power to love our bodies as they are. We can learn to rock what we got. Healthy breasts are a gift, a prize, a blessing. Just ask a
breast cancer patient.

Rethink your relationship with your body.

Rethink your idea of tits, jugs, breasts, melons, hooters, boobs, breasts, whatever else they are called. Don't wait for a breast cancer diagnosis in order to realize your breasts are wonderful.

Love your breasts now.