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Breasts and bunions


I saw a woman in the store yesterday who clearly suffered from a bad case of anorexia. She was tall and blond and looked like a concentration camp inmate. Every bone, every joint was clearly, painfully defined. She walked carefully like a great blue heron, as if her feet were made of glass and might shatter with the slightest misstep. Her feet probably hurt, since there was no fat padding on them anymore to cushion her step.

Her breasts were perfect, though, full and proud and as artificial as I have ever seen. She looked ridiculous.

The female breast, as I understand it, is largely made of fat and fibrous tissue. For a woman like her to be in such an advanced state of malnutrition, her breasts should have been little flaps of flesh. But no, hers were immune to the depredations her twisted body-image were visiting upon her frame. They looked as if they had been grafted on. Which they were.

That night, a niece mentioned that she wanted breast implants. I was surprised. She is pretty and slender, and she cannot mass more than 45 kilos since she has lost all her pregnancy weight. Her breasts are pleasantly proportional to her petite frame, and I told her so. To augment them is unnecessary, because she looks lovely as she is. Besides, I reminded her, breast implants rarely last more than a decade or two before they must be removed or replaced, because they eventually leak. A bad silicone implant leak can kill you, I told her. I don’t think she knew that.

I asked her why she thought she needed breast implants. “I don’t know,” she said. I think I do. Her husband probably criticized her breasts, and made her feel insecure about them. He criticizes her a lot. I have talked with him about it. “Your job as a husband is to support her and encourage her,” I said. “You need to tell her that she is beautiful, even if she isn’t beautiful at that moment. You need to make her feel special, because she is. Out of all the women you could have married, you married her. If big breasts were important to you, than you obviously made a mistake in marrying her. You married her because you love her, and you need to love her as she is, and make her feel special, not inadequate.” But he can’t hear me. And ultimately, it’s her own battle to fight with him, to make him appreciate her for who she is, and not to criticize her. I can’t fix the problem for them, nor should I try.


In a similar vein, I saw a woman in her twenties in the hotel in Los Angeles last week with the worst case of bunions I have ever seen on young person. She had the feet of a sixty-year-old. In all probability, she had been wearing pointed-toe high heels since she was in her teens, and her condition was made worse if she was genetically predisposed toward bunions. Poor thing, her feet were hideous. It must have been painful. (Shudder.)

It never ceases to amaze me what women will put themselves through to meet artificial standards of beauty, standards which are often programmed into them by male-driven advertising, by other women, and of course by the men around them. It’s so sad. To me, a woman’s attractiveness is determined by her personality and how she possesses and moves her body, not in what she wears. A woman in jeans and sneakers and a T-shirt can be much more attractive than the scantily-clad Latina prostitute I saw in my hotel parking lot in Miami last month. It’s not about the skin, or the shoes, or the clothes or the makeup. It’s in how the woman inhabits her body, and the confidence and comfortableness with which she wears it.

But what do I know? I’m not even of the same species.

One Comment
  1. Blithe permalink
    2012-05-30T00:40:56-04:00 00:40

    Marvin the Martian,
    You are very right. Women are so confused and think that all men want sexiness and a sexy appeal. They conform to what society wants and not what they need. It’s sad to see sometimes. :( GREAT POST!

    Blithe M.


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