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June 2, 2005
Bouncing breasts under a tight black top
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.
Trisha was a very attractive woman with dark hair, a face that lit up when she smiled and, quite noticeable breasts. I hesitate to comment on the last attribute because I like and respect Trisha and I know she get's sick of people commenting about her breasts. But I need to because it's part of the story.
This young group of teachers grew up and our confidence grew over those next few years. We enjoyed our work and became really comfortable with our surroundings. We knew the ropes and became really involved in the school. We walked with a spring in our step.
Even though I was confident in myself and my job it would be many years before I could become comfortable with my sexuality. There were many women teachers who I enjoyed being with but because Trisha sat next to me I had more opportunity to acknowledge the sexuality between us than with most — there were lots of times I saw her bounce into the staffroom in a tight fitting jumper or t-shirt, or sat next to her in summer and discretely admired her cleavage — but I never said anything or did anything that enabled us to mutually acknowledge this aspect of our relationship.
So it was one day that I got up from my desk to walk down the corridor to do some task or other. It was during class time so there was no-one else around. No one, that is except Trisha who was walking the other way towards me. If my memory serves me correctly she was wearing long boots, a long black skirt and a tight fitting black knitted top. It was clear she was wearing a seamless sheer bra underneath (this was years before moulded cups became popular). She looked really beautiful. But I coudln't help noticing her breasts bouncing as she walked confidently down the corridor and, like a rabbit caught in the headlinghts of an oncoming car I became fixated on them. Then I became extremely embarassed. I wish I could have lifted my eyes and smiled at her to make contact with her and to acknowledge the experience. But again it was years before I learnt to do this. So the moment was lost. I never spoke to her about this but I fear she was diminished, left feeling that another male only saw her as a pair of breasts. I was diminished too. I lost the opportunity to experience contact with another person. I missed the opportunity to experience and express my sexuality. Left having experienced sex but alone and in a way that diminished the other — an empty experience.
So our fixation with breasts diminishes us all. Who is to say who is diminished most by it — men or women. I am sure that women are more damaged by it but we men miss out on so much because of it. Through years of self training my eyes still have a built in radar for breasts. But I have trained myself in the last few years to steel only a fleeting glance and then look the other person in the eye and smile. Most times I am rewarded with a smile in return. Those smiles leave me with a much warmer feeling than any breast sighting ever could.
Posted by chriscurnow at June 2, 2005 3:45 PM
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Comments
There are people who believe that men should not be like "rabbits caught in the headlights" (in Canada we use deer, but I know you guys are lousy with rabbits) looking at women's breasts. And yet, that belief is not backed up by what really happens. What you have clearly and honestly presented is a perfect example of just that. Breasts are magnets for mens gaze.
Could it be that it is our belief of what 'should' be rather than our observation of what 'is' that is the root of this issue? Would all parties have a better starting point for affecting new behaviour if we simply agreed with where we are at?
Example: My belief is that men (not all and not only) like to look at women's breasts. I have breasts. Men look at them. I can now say, "Having fun?" or, "If you keep looking at my breasts like that you'll have to marry me." or "I think I have something in my eye. Would you kindly take a look?"
I don't feel diminished. Would a man?
Posted by: Sue Richards at June 2, 2005 11:34 PM
Well put Sue. I think this is one of the main reasons for starting Breast Stories. Let's start talking about how things are now. Talking, with respect for both sides, can bring understanding. Understanding can bring change.
If you said that to me I would be embarrassed. But if I was able to recover, say sorry and have a converstation with you I wouldn't feel diminished.
Posted by: Chris at June 3, 2005 4:39 PM
I think this story is basically, but understandably over reacting, perhaps driven by a desire to be politically correct. Particularly from someone who considered themselves as a friend.
Breasts do stand out, and people, both men and women notice them, and often admire them. There is nothing intrinsically wrong with that. People like to be looked at and admired, that is why they pay attention to their dress. Looking at a woman, or her bust, or legs or clothes, or for that matter anything else is not inherently wrong. Nor would be the converse.
What would be wrong would be unwelcome attention in either direction and a failure to acknowledge the other as a person. Women often joke that babies see themselves as meals on legs, and make similar jokes about men dissecting their anatomy. A stare without a smile is wrong, a smile and an admiring glance is usually welcome.
What is perhaps sad, is that the parties were never able to discuss this, despite being friends, and so an opportunity for mutual growth was lost.
Although women make lots of jokes about the scenario described here, basically most of them like attention. You will find many of the commoner jokes here:
http://forum.breasttalk.co.uk/random-quotes/view-random-quotes.asp
Here is an example:
Why do blokes find it difficult to make eye contact? .....Breasts don't have eyes!!
Posted by: Michael Goodyear at June 29, 2005 7:37 AM
Thanks for your thoughtful comment Michael.
You said
What would be wrong would be unwelcome attention in either direction and a failure to acknowledge the other as a person
That was in fact the problem in the story. I became so embarassed that I was looking at Thrisha's breasts that I couldn't make eye contract with her and "acknowledge her as a person." - and indeed an opportunity for mutual growth was lost.
Thanks again.
Posted by: Chris at June 29, 2005 2:41 PM
You may be surprised how common this story is, and how often people ask for advice on handling it. Try smiling at a face first!
Posted by: Michael at June 30, 2005 3:40 AM
I'm a bit sad that it took me until my mid 40's to realise this.
I wrote about how I learnt to smile here.
Posted by: Chris Curnow at June 30, 2005 4:21 PM
I wonder if long boots, a skirt, and a tight fitting top constitue an appropriate outfit for a teacher in a classroom setting. How old were these students I wonder, and what messages were they picking up on?
Posted by: Flyn at November 27, 2006 11:57 AM
So what do you think Flyn?
Do you think female teachers should not be allowed to wear skirts? or boots? (It was a long skirt by the way.)
When I say it was a tight top, let's say it was sleek. I would describe her outfit as elegant.
What we choose to imagine says a lot about ourselves. I think that was the point of my story.
(My apologies for taking so long to approve you comment. Although leaving a no thanks email address made me hesitate.)
Posted by: Chris Curnow 
at December 3, 2006 11:09 PM
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