Boobs

Boobs.
Breasts,
Titties,
Ta-Tas,
Tits,
Bosoms,
Nipples,
Knockers,
Everybody has them,
Everybody loves them,
And why not? Everyone should.
They're wonderful.
loveable,
hug-able,
Good,
lick-able,
Flick-able,
Tease-able,
kind of magical.
Big or small,
Perky or round,
I think we can agree on the merits of these mounds.

They're like marshmallows,
Good to taste,
Good to touch,
And you really want to dive in with your face.

So why are we so scared of them?
Like pubescent boys we idolise them,
Fantasize them,
Tweak,
Prod at
And customise them.

From behind bright white screens in dark little corners
We make them larger than life,
Too much to be real,
Create illusions of grandeur,
Setting our standards not by reality,
But by the pictures imagined in some fourteen year old head.
Why don't we just show them instead/

Why must we be ashamed of them?
Why are young women taught to fear the power of something attached to their chests?
Taught of the strange dark powers to control the opposite sex,
Or depending on what you're wearing,
Deprive them of their basic human ability to repress
Their animalistic desire for prises and primitive conquests.
Really?
dude?
Get over it, they're just breasts.

They aren't some monster or a mind altering drug,
They aren't yours to be judged,
Or an excuse to turn into a Neanderthal thug.
Grow up,
Tell your mother you're sorry
And give your daddy a hug.