June 2005 Archives

Calendar Girl is a brave woman. She dares to sell calendars containing exposed female nipples that are not pornographic.

In this post she lamments the attitude of retailers who are prepared to sell female nipples as pornography (anywhere from 'soft" to 'hardcore') but feel they would be offending their customers if they sold nipples in the cause of breast cancer.

The retailers are probably right. Customers will not complain about the pornography but will complain about nudity that is not pornographic. Hmmm, maybe some customers will complain, but the financial reward for the retailer outweighs the complaints? Regardless, as a society we have a much more benign attitude to pornography than non-pornographic nudity. Witness the response to breast feeding in public. This seems both sad and morally inverted.

Constantly and only packaging female breasts in pornography demeans both men and women. Now Breast Stories has no problem with sexuality being associated with breasts. We think they are quite sexual. But constantly packaging breasts in pornography is emotially bereft and denies the beauty of women.

Most fundamentally, I suspect this is about power. Women have the capacity to exercise power over men simply by choosing to or not to display their nipples and breasts (or other parts of their bodies). We men don't like having someone else having power over us. So we contrive to control and package womens power so it becomes our own. By and large it is men who control the pornography industry - and in their view rightfully so. We can decide the circumstances in which women display their nipples.

At least we mostly can. There are pesky people like Calendar Girl, the topfree movement and women who want to breastfeed in public. These women represent a huge threat to male power and so can't be tolerated.

Sure we feel strongly about breast cancer and want to do everything we can to help defeat this terrible disease. In support of this cause we hapily tolerate artful displays of nudity where none of the 'naughty bits' are on display. But giving up our power and allowing women to exercise theirs unhindered. That's going to far.

[I've just realised this relates to another piece I am writing today about the Men's Movement. You can find this piece here.

Nothing has the ability to give you a warm feeling through the day than a smile offered freely out of the blue. The happier and freer the smile, the more good feeling it promotes.

I remember walking past a pub in Kew one day. There were prominent signs all over the pub advertising "Exotic Dancers and Foxy bar ladies" appearing daily from 1pm. As I walked past a young woman came out holding a small case and with a little skip, walked to the drivers door of her car. As she was unlocking the door she glanced across at me and gave me the happiest smile I had received all day. It was so nice because it was so free. It made me think it was so much nicer than anything I could, if I had been so inclined, have seen inside.

There is something special when the person offering the smile is a woman. There is a certain chemistry. It is especially good when breasts become involved in the interaction. A couple of incidents today reminded me of this.

I was having a coffee in one of my favourite cafes this morning. At one stage a woman breezed in with a smile and greeted the owner with a kiss on the cheek. They were obviously happy to see each other and comfortable being expressive about it. It was a nice moment. I was sitting at the table nearest the counter and the woman and the owner were facing away from me. When she got her take away coffee she turned around and as I glanced up I could see she was still smiling. As she turned, her shirt tightened around her chest. The sight of her breasts gently straining against her shirt added to the chemistry of the moment. It was almost as if they had a voice of their own saying "I am a woman - don't forget me."

The other incident was at the swimming pool - often a place of many breasts. Prominent but much less so than at the beach. The triahletes were out in force this morning. It's sometimes annoying when the pool is crowded but at another level there is something about being amongst so much power of a lot of people swimming hard. One of the female triathletes wears a black one piece with a bright pink makers logo on the side. It emphasises her figure and especially nice sized breasts. As if this weren't enough she never stops smiling - from the time she walks into the pool, every time she takes a break to the time she leaves. The whole experience of seeing her makes a difference to my day.

Calendar Girl Sue, comments on one of my entries here regarding breast power. She finds it

"interesting that so few women will admit to [breasts being a power source]."

This is interesting in itself. I can think of several memories of women exercising their 'breast power' only to be surprised and a little frightened by it.

More important though, is Sue's observation

This all makes me wonder what it is about power, of any kind, that is so difficult for human beings to manage in a kind and respectful way?

This could almost be a motto for Breast Stories. Power and the way we exercise it is really at the heart of the problem of how we respond to breasts. Women often exercise breast power without knowing it, or perhaps subconsciously and men often respond with the only form of power we know.

I really believe that by talking about it, we can learn to each use our power more equally and respectfully.

I get a lot of surprised responses when I tell people I've started a blog called Breast Stories. Contrary to my expectations before I started this enterprise, the strongest reactions come from men who really wonder why anyone would do such a thing.

Also contrary to my expectations, the most affirming responses have been from women. Several women have said things like "Good on you Chris" and "I really look forward to hearing what you have to say about breasts." I really wanted this blog to be a place where women would feel comfortable. A place where women could find out what goes on in the heads of men. To better understand our obsession and feel more comfortable in themselves.

After thinking about it though, I'm not surprised about men's responses to this blog. We have spent all our lives hiding our deepest thoughts about breasts. Sure we all know the locker room talk. We jostle each other and make jokes. But we never really talk about how breasts make us feel. We find it easy to say "She's got great t***." Not so easy to say "I think she's quite beautiful." Certainly we would shake in our boots to say how we are moved by a women's breasts without adding some element of power.

I suspect we are intimidated by women. We feel that women have power over us. They can turn us into drivelling absolute submission just be showing us their breasts. So just like the bully, we gang together to have power over women. Our joking, jostling and crude remarks are all a mask to hide our insecurity.

So that strikes at the heart of the reason for this blog. I am tired of wearing the mask. I want to "out" myself as a breast watcher and talk openly about what Calendar Girl calls "what is". Let's admit it. We men like breasts. At least many or most of us do. We are mesmerised by them. Sometimes this makes the women we admire very uncomfortable. So by trying to get closer to them we push them away. Just like when we were in primary school and when we liked a girl we would pull her hair.

So let's talk about this. So we amongst ourselves may understand how we feel and the women we love may also understand. So we can understand more fully what it is like to be a woman and women can understand more fully what we feel towards them. From there we can understand between us how we can act and experience each other.

In the next couple of days I will post some references to authors who have inspired my thinking.

I am interetsted in your comments.

Today I had to catch up with a young female work colleague regarding a minor software issue. In this relationship it is my responsibility to solve theses types of problems. My colleague is easy to work with and although she must sometimes get frustrated with the software, she never shows it and always has an easy going attitude to any problems that arise. She is quite pretty and always greets me with a smile. Oh, and bye the way, she has quite large breasts.

Now as this is a professional relationship I try especially hard not to notice and try really hard not to look at her breasts. But it can be oh so hard. Today I was standing as she sat at her desk and showed me the problem on her computer. Now I certainly observed the problem on her screen and looked her in the eyes as I was discussing how we would resolve it. But there was one stage where she was looking something up and I was waiting. I just couldn't help it. I glanced down. She was wearing a fairly discreet V-neck top but from where I stood I could see the top of her breasts and as she was leaning slightly forward, I could see the space between her breast and her bra - a view I find really attractive. It's like holding an ice-cream in front of a child.

When I think about it, sometimes I think it's pathetic. But then again, maybe it's not really that much different from seeing a beautiful flower and admiring it. Hmmm. Something to think about.

It's hard to find other sites that deal with breast stories that don't deal with implants, surgery or breast cancer. Not that these are not important issues for discussion. Far from it. However Breast Stories exists to promote open discussion about every day experiences of breasts.

After paging through the google search results I found this site:

Look up breasts on the Internet. Try to find a site that doesn't deal with a) breast augmentation, or b) breast cancer. So we wanna be Pamela Lee, or we need a mastectomy? These appear to be your options: breasts as nippled rockets or as health liability.

We have our own ideas about the twins, enough for an absolute tit fit. We missed running our own series of breast stories during October, which was breast cancer awareness month, and frankly--that's good. Because although we've got some "legitimate" educational info to offer, such as how to operate your breasts during a self-exam and changes to look for, our take on the subject is more about breast appreciation than breast health, more about breast humor than boob jobs.

Smile and Act Nice has several every day breast stories by women. They can be funny, moving of just plain informative. Recommended reading for all men.

Here's one story I found particularly moving.

Here are some personal stories of women who have had breast implants.

Be warned, these stories are not pretty. They represent the ugly side of breast augmentation.
Here's an extract of Mary Monough, 'Erin' on the Waltons' story:

If I had been told by my doctor that after having implants I might break out in rashes, run fevers, and become sensitive to light, I never would have had implants. If I had been told I would have muscle pain, that I would be stiff, and have chronic fatigue, I never would have had implants. If my doctor had told me that I would wake up feeling like I was hit in the head with a frying pan, that I would have dry eyes, shooting pain in my ribs and chest, and my breasts would ache, I never would have had implants. If he had told me there was even the slightest chance that I might develop connective tissue disease or that I wouldn't be able to pick my daughter up or hold her close, believe me, I never would have made that choice.

I have met women who are really happy with their 'new breasts'. They like their new shape and feel it gives them a lot more confidence. Of course every person has the right to decide what they do with their bodies.

However, these stories illustrate that many women have serious, chronic health problems after having implants and they feel that they were never given all the facts about the potential dangers involved in the procedure.

While I restate my belief in the right of each person to decide what to do with their bodies, I don't every want anything I say or do to contribute to the pressure on any woman to conform to some artificial 'standard'.

Quite obviously, I love breasts. I think they are beautiful. Natural breasts that is. Please note that I didn't say "I love big breasts". I love breasts of all sizes. Sure a woman with big breasts might turn my head, but so will a woman with gentle curves. I have seeen a Playboy photo of Pamela Anderson before she mutilated her body. I think she was beautiful. I much prefer the way she was.

As a teenager at high school, I "fell in love" (at different times) with two girls. Both of them had virtually no breasts at all. But I still thought they were beautiful. Their small breasts were an essential part of their beauty.

Again, not long after I left school I was down at my favourite beach (Half Moon Bay) one afternoon. This was in the days when it was very common to see topless women on the beach in Melbourne. This was a particularly hot day and a lot of people were wading in the water. I was one of them. As I moved towards one end of the beach I noticed a topless woman standing in the water. Her breasts were smaller than mine but her nipples were very erect and very feminine. I thought she was very sexy.

I tell these stories to try to illustrate what goes on in at least one man's mind. You don't have to have huge breasts to be beautiful and attractive.

I would like to see all women love themselves just as they are. Just as I would like all men to do the same. Our bodies are too important to us not to love them.

Over the last few days Calendar Girl has provided rich, beautiful and moving descriptions of the proceedings of the World Conference on Breast Cancer which wound up yesterrday.

Breast Stories is committed to incresaing understanding between men and women. Up until now, I haven't thought much about posting specific breast cancer stories - although quite obviously breast cancer is a major part of womens' experience and thoughts about breasts.

Partly my avoidance of this topic has been because I have no direct experience of it. I don't personally know anyone with breast cancer. But there is something deeper happening. Partly I want to avoid it because part of me wants to pretend it doesn't happen to people I know. That part of me wants to maintain a purely romantic view of breasts.

Well Calendar Girl's postings have changed that. I want to understand more about the dark side of breasts and I want this site to help promote understanding. I don't know exactly what form that will take, but it's something I am determined to do.

That's not to say that the site will change dramatically. It is to say that it will become more inclusive. At least I hope it will.

It never ceases to amaze me that I have reached my first half century on this planet and I find I have more to learn and understand about women every day.

This blog has been a huge learning exeprience. Just writing about my thoughts and experiences publicly has made me think more clearly about those thoughts and experiences.

Watching each of my four daughters emerge from childhood into confident young women has been an encredibly enriching experience. I'm certain something in my mind or spirit determined us having four daughters. There was something for me about making the world an OK place for women. Something about honouring women. But also something about wanting enter into the world of women which I do every day when I come home. I am the only man in the family and most of the time I like it.

The other thing I am understanding about women is your ambivalence about being looked at which I really didn't understand at all for a long time.

All of us like looking good. We like it when we buy a new outfit that we look good in. We also like it when someone compliments us on a physical feature - 'you have lovely eyes' for example. I think all of us, secretely or otherwise, dream about being able to walk along the beach in our swimwear and be admired. To have a body that we feel looks really good.

We, as men, feel like this and some of us go to great lengths to work out and get tanned. But for those of us who don't, it's not such a big deal. We can always get a fast car or a bigger computer or something that we feel makes us feel good.

For women, I suspect, it is a bit different. A women is always judged by her appearance - to differing degrees in different circumstances and in different contexts. There is so much pressure on women to look good.

So it has been for a long time why I didn't get it when I noticed a woman with a revealing top or a short skirt who then seemed uncomfortable with the attention she was getting. Part of me, somewhere, said "If you don't want the attention, why do you wear clothes like that." I wasn't denying a woman's right to choose what she wore but I was confused about what she wanted in return.

Many years ago, when I was a teenager I was at a girfriend's house for the afternoon. Not long after I got there we were alone in a room sitting on the floor together. She had on a low cut t-shirt. I had never been this close to a girl with so much of her breasts revealed. I thought she looked beautiful and thought her breasts looked beautiful. I just wanted to look at them. But I didn't get much of a chance. She got embarassed very quickly and held a magazine in front of her chest. When I asked her why she wore a top like that if she didn' want me to see, she said "I wanted to know if I could appeal." She wanted to know if she could be sexy. But as a young teenager, she wasn't prepared for how easy it was to be sexy and how strong the reaction from men could be.

That same interaction must be played out in very many young women's lives. You want to attract. You want to be attractive but the focus we men put on one single part of your body, or the physical part of your being is overwhelming. So at one time you want to give out but we repel you with the strength and lack of subtlety in our response.

The sad thing is that we both want the same thing - intimacy. It's just that we have such different ways of going about it. When I saw my girlfriends breasts I felt privileged. I felt close to her. I didn't want to offend her or hurt her. I just wanted to be close and looking at her breasts made me feel close to her. Unfortunately it made her feel really uncomfortable.

As I said when I started out, I'm understanding this difference more and more each day. I guess it's really good that we (men and women) are different. The struggle to understand is what makes the successes feel so good - as long as we continue to strive for understanding.

For further thought, here is something from Female First.

Calendar Girl's latest moving post from the World Conference on Breast Cancer

"In every woman there's a little ballerina waiting to be noticed..

Debunking pornographic stereotypes of women and exploring the natural beauty found in all women. --This is a ring for people who understand feminism can be feminine, freethinkers and women who dare to be different from traditional sterotypes. Sites with tasteful artistic (breast) nudity are welcomed but pornography is not (all sites must be female-friendly). This ring is a place for women to "get what's bugging them, off their chest." (pun intentional). It's hopeful in the future to attract stories (even photographs) from women who have had mastectomies, breastfeeding information, or other breast-related problems for readers to learn about and understand the painful realities that exist for real women --any information or stories about natural breast issues. Society really needs to hear from the silent female majority. Due to the sensitivity of this issue, only high quality sites will be admitted for membership. This ring was created by women, for women, though pages submitted by men who support women in their refusal to undergo cosmetic surgery welcomed. Women need to hear a supportive word from men.

Calendar Girl (aka Sue Richards) is posting regularly from the World Breast Cancer Conference.

This piece is a gem.

I was explaining this new blog to a breast friend today. She was really interested in what I was trying to do which was encouraging.

At one point in the conversation though she stopped me and said that women look at men all the time. We were at a cafe by the beach and although it's now winter, it was easy to conjur up memories from just a few months ago when there were lots of young bodys in swimwear walking and lazing around.

Yes, I agreed, I can believe that women would admire the young fit bodies of the men they say. But, I said, and this is the key point, they don't feel guilty about it. There is no danger that the subject of their admiration will catch them looking and glare back at them burning holes in their self esteem. There is little danger that they will have their face slapped. So while they don't stare women don't have to hide behind bushes or go to extreme lengths to find vantage points to observe without being noticed.

Men are not going to mind being looked at. It's quite nice. Everyone likes to be liked. But we don't have much risk of a women coming up to us and talking to our chest or our groin. Perhaps they should try it. It would be pretty embarassing having someone watch us in our speedos as we rose to the occasion. If it happened everytime we walked on to the beach I think most of us would get really sick of it.

Yes we do look at each other and can admire each other's bodies. But there's a lot of difference in how we do it.

Here are a couple of articles about our guilt from Certified Male

• Sexual Healing for Men by Steve Biddulph
• Crossing Boundaries by Richard Prosapio

I'm not much of a fan of the men's movement vs radical femminists that seems to be characterised by Certified Male, but allowing for that, it is moving stuff.

I hope the title of this post will become clear when you have read the post.

Since starting this blog I have tried to be conscious about how I look at breasts. I thought about doing a post on all my breast sightings for one day. I'm sorry, there are just too many. It's not that I look at the breasts of every woman that passes by. It's just that some come to my attention more easily. Yes, I know it shows what a simple mind I have an all I can do is admit it.

Anyway, today I saw two women who made me think about breasts without seeing their breasts. In the first, I was walking along a busy city street and a young woman was coming the other way towards me. She had on a light coloured woolen jumper worn off the shoulders. Clearly visible were the straps of her pink bra. There was something about the way the straps were moving that hinted about her breast shape. As I passed her I could see the whole of her torso which verified the hint.

Later on today I was driving on my way home I saw a sight that always gets me. Now it is winter in Melbourne at the moment although today was a glorious winters day. As I was driving along minding my own business, I came to a set of lights and had to stop. I noticed the woman in the driver's seat of the car on my left. She had a singlet top on with thin straps with thin bra straps just visible. It was a pretty sight but guilty again as charged. It made me think of her breasts.

The only thing that gets me more than this is when the woman in the car has a strapless top on and all I can see is her shoulders. Oh yes, it sends me into day dreaming again.

Here's another story from my teaching days. I've wanted to tell this story publicly for a long time. I guess I'd really like to discuss it with the other person in the story but I don't have contact with her anymore. Maybe one day. Maybe she'll read it here?

I was filled with a mixture of excitement and trepidation on my first day's work as a qualified teacher. If my memory serves me correctly I was one of seven first year teachers at the school that day. None of us really new what to do but eventually found our way into the staffroom for the first staff meeting of the year. After the meeting someone came up to us and said "I suppose we'll have to find somewhere for you to sit." He took us across the corridor to the staff work rooms where we were each allocated a what is euphamistically called a "desk" — 800mm by 500mm of work space with a variety of pigeon holes, a drawer and some cupboard space. My desk was closest to the door and Trisha, another first year teacher was allocated the "desk" to my left. Trisha and I ended up sitting next to each other for five years and shared a professional friendship and many common experiences.

This is an edited extract from my first post about breasts at chriscurnow.com:

This is a story from my teaching days when I was a Year 11 form teacher. During this particular year I took form assembly each morning to call the roll and give the daily announcements. One of the girls in my form was a truly delightful and attractive young lady — let's call her Julie. This day it was still early in the year and the girls were wearing their summer dresses (which are probably the same cut in every school in Australia). Our form assembly was held in the Chemistry room which meant I stood at the elevated desk at the front of the room while students who wanted to discuss anything stood on the lower floor at the front of the room (so you already know what's going to happen next...). I was fairly strict about uniform. Boys wearing their ties with shirts tucked in and girls having their top buttons done up. One morning Julie came to the front desk to ask me something. I noticed her top button was undone. Given our relative positions I couldn't help noticing her cleavage. In another situation I could have enjoyed it for a moment - maybe I did very briefly. But after a couple of microseconds hesitation, I said "Julie, do your top button up please." Her response has lived with me to this day. Some girls would have said this as a throw away, just a tiny bit teasing line. But Julie did not, at that time, have an ounce of the tease or seductress in her. She said, almost quizically, "Why does it matter? It's just another part of the body." Now, I'm quite certain I could have asked any of the boys in the class to explain to her that her breasts were not just another part of her body. But she was genuinely puzzled why we men are so fascinated with breasts. I hope she learned to appreciate her own beauty and the mystique that her breasts held. But at that stage, as a young emerging woman she just wanted to be a person with everyday ordinary part of the body breasts. So what!