Call me crazy, but I’ve never been a big fan of big boobs.
They’ve just never done a whole lot for me.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
I know.
In a culture that glorifies the likes of Pamela Anderson and the Swedish Twins, surely I’m gay, right? Or at least in dire need of glasses?
Alas, no. I assure you I’m a visual horndog for the fairer sex.
But it just seems that whenever I fall head over heels for a woman, one of the many things she happens to possess is a small chest.
Now it’s not that that’s what I notice first, or even what I’m looking for. Sure, I’m a visually-driven beast, and yes, I’m a sucker for a pretty face, so I guess it starts there. (Extra points for brown eyes and a perky chin.)
Then her voice. As a singer, a melodious voice goes a long way with me.
And if I’m being honest, I’m easily hypnotized by a great ass. Truly, I’m powerless against them. Problem, is it could take hours—or even the 4th date—before you get a good look at it.
But there’s something about a small-breasted woman that just seems to shine through the crowd for me, pushing all the poseurs away.
And I swear, it’s her energy.
Her passion for life, a type of fearlessness, a bold openness to the world.
And if she doesn’t have that, it doesn’t matter how beautiful she is. The one thing that trumps anything is if a woman looks like she truly loves her life.
For a long time, I wasn’t really aware it was the less-endowed women of the world I was falling for. It was only later, usually, that some guy friend of mine observed, “Cute girl. Kinda small-chested though, huh, dude?”
At first, I wondered what my problem was, since as young men we’re taught the prehistoric notion that bigger is always better, but soon I realized: it didn’t matter to me in the slightest.
And in time, it was something I came to prize. So why is that?
Maybe it’s because that I grew up as an athlete, surrounded by other athletes— ski racers, cyclists, runners, triathletes, gymnasts. So the girls around me were all pretty fit—meaning very muscular, with very little body fat. And when you don’t have much fat, well, hey, you tend to have smaller breasts. But when you work out multiple hours a day, you also have one other thing: A great ass. (And usually a pretty nice set of legs, too.)
And when you spend your days devoted to sports, you also develop a whole set of character traits: You go straight at your goals. You don’t shy away from a challenge. You overcome adversity. You develop humility from all the countless times you’re not among the leaderboard. And you learn to laugh off a set-back. All of which are pretty attractive traits.
So the more time I spent with them, the more I loved athletic women. I saw that they were assertive, confident, and took charge. They didn’t wait around for men to open doors for them. They took me on, challenged me, flirted more daringly. Over time I would see that they would also pursue their dreams and aspirations more aggressively. Even better? They tend to be independent and self-reliant enough so that they not only made their own money, but looked to a man as a partner in life’s adventures, not as a white knight to “rescue” them or hold them up in times of crisis. And in even more time, I would discover they tended to be a little more lively in bed. So eventually, I began to associate the types of behavior and attitudes I liked with small-breasted women.
But not all of the small-breasted women I fell for were athletic. So the other thing that occurs to me is that maybe, without a big chest to gain the instant attention of most men, she had to find other ways to get their attention. By being a more interesting conversationalist. Or having a sunnier personality. Or by asking him to dance, rather than waiting to be asked. Or by having
a funnier comeback than anyone else at the table. Or by simply radiating a kind of energy that exceeds whatever natural assets you’re born with—the kind that can only come from living a bold and interesting life based on your passions.
To be clear, this is not an anti-large-breasted-women stance I have. Lord knows I’ve fallen under their spell, too, at times. But it was a simpler infatuation. It was not due to an attraction to her energy, her mind, her soul—the things that really kept me coming back for more. And let’s face it, most large-breasted women will still have plenty of admirers without me to count on. Although I have heard my largely- endowed female friends complain that it’s harder to trust why a man has fallen for them—especially when it’s often not her eyes he’s staring at. And just because a man is attracted to you doesn’t mean he’s listening to you. So I don’t mean to imply life’s a cake-walk for the well-endowed woman, either.
But I do think small breasted women often have to earn the attention of men more. They’ve gone without the instant adulation that can come with having large boobs. They have to find other ways to draw a man’s interest. And at times, I’ve run into a sense of entitlement from large-breasted women that I don’t find remotely attractive. Some are clearly so used to unconditional adoration from men that if you fail to fall at her feet and heap compliments in her general direction, then you’re simply not worth her time. Which is just fine with me.
So, while the majority of men fawn over the Jessica Simpsons and the Pamela Andersons of the world, gimme a Hilary Swank or an Keira Nightly, please. For me, an A-cup puts you on the A-list, every time.
So fear not, ye of little breadth: you have more admirers out here than you know.
Skip the boob job, ladies. If the guy you’re with thinks you need different breasts, maybe you just need a different guy.
