Members in good standing of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee are many things, but delusional is not one of them. We don’t tell ourselves that guys are secretly harboring a desire for a less-than-bodacious chest. We are fully aware that boys are in search of the perfect set of tits. From my understanding, these sweater puppies are 34Ds, astonishingly perky for their size, with half dollar-sized nipples, and aren’t spaced so far apart that the sternum is strangely prominent. They’re looking for the Holy Grail of tits, if you will. Men will spend years searching for these knockers, slaying girl after girl to find them. It’s a tough job, but somebody has to do it. A vast majority of the time their efforts will be futile, as a rack like that is a rarity.
Only one man, Indiana Jones, successfully found the real Holy Grail (and also, most likely, one of the sets of Holy Grail boobies). His competitors often thought they’d come upon it, but none could find it, and in the third installment, some Nazies were even killed the moment they took a sip from the impostor chalice. My weird, extended metaphor serves as a reminder that while some big boobs are great and worthy of celebration upon their discovery, a lot of them are pretty unpleasant to look at. Unfortunately for boys, the abundance of good push-up bras makes it extremely difficult to discern between the two. Just like the Nazis in The Last Crusade, there are guys that will continue their hunt until they find a Kate Upton boob twin, no matter how many bad titties they have to see along the way. If you are the proud owner of these Holy Grail tits (and girl, you should be proud) the rest of this column does not apply to you. As for the rest of you…
Let’s make one thing clear: your boobs are only the subject of conversation because you will not shut the fuck up about them. We can only change the topic so many times, so we eventually give up on our hopes that you can talk about something beside yourself. We entertain your pleas for attention. You and I both know you’re self-centered, so we, your modestly-sized friends, get that you don’t realize how much you talk about your tits and understand your affinity for assuming our annoyance is founded in jealousy. It’s not. Want to know why? It’s because 99.99% of the time, the girl “humble bragging” about her enormous boobs has tainted enormous boobs. Whether it be super saggy boobs, pepperoni nipples, the fact that your boobs are only big because you’re fat, or all of the above, at the end of the day there is something wrong with them.
Call me crazy, but I’d much rather have my nearly B’s that will continue to stay perky for decades to come (thanks, Mom!) than have giant, saggy ones. There is a saying in the world that applies to almost everything, but especially rings true for chesticles: quality over quantity. There are the crazed boob men of the world who will go after giant knockers until their dying day for the chance to lay their eyes on the tits of legends, but from what any sane guy (boob and ass men alike) has ever told me, aesthetically pleasing boobs are preferable to homely, big ones. Having smaller boobs has more benefits than one would think. For example, I can wear an XL t-shirt without looking obese. One of those cute, backless wedding dresses that Pinterest is littered with will find me well some day. I have a free pass on the evils of gravity, stretch marks, giant nips, and poor posture from back pain. Of course there are outliers, but generally speaking, when you have slightly shrunken honkers, you skirt a majority of the qualities that plague a nasty ass rack. I think it’s safe to say that pretty boobs lie heavily in our side of the spectrum.
So ladies, you can shove your boobies in everyone’s faces, and call us jealous bitches, but we know who’s really jealous when the
gloves bras come off.
I just needed to get that off my chest.