Breast Country

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This week we are in Las Vegas while my husband plays in the Main Event of the World Series of Poker. For those of you who have never been to “Sin City,” 36DDs are the building blocks of the local economy. While local hotels feature glamorous big-breasted showgirls, tourists of all ages and sizes seem compelled to flaunt their breasts, shoving them upward and outward like fresh melons in the produce section.

Las Vegas plays on mans’ primal preoccupation with the female form. Large lighted billboards, backs of taxi cabs and local magazines display photos of “Girls, Girls, Girls,” while the Las Vegas Yellow Pages features 80 pages of “Busty Blonds, Discrete and Intimately Yours.” Las Vegas is amazing, but it makes it difficult to reconcile the 250,000 newly diagnosed cases of breast cancer each year, in America alone, with our in-your-face preoccupation with breasts. Breast cancer families must come to terms with the fact that life, love and relationships are the important building blocks of human nature, not breasts. 

Sure, Mother Nature gave women breasts to attract males, in the first place, so we could propagate the species and feed our young. But what does it say about women when we publicly assume the image of a 17-year-old celebrity by wearing low cut, baby doll tops on shopping trips with our kids to Wal-Mart? I am not a feminist, but I do have a healthy dose of self-respect, and I want a man who views me the same way. That is not to say I have not brought along my sexy black lingerie and thigh highs with the deliberate intention of entertaining my husband, while we are here, but I am not my breasts. On the other hand, since neither of my breasts are the ones Mother Nature gave me, I should fit right in with Las Vegas:-)