What’s it like to have big breasts?

Ok, we guys find breasts fascinating. We find big breasts especially fascinating. Not necessarily because we like big breasts better than small breasts but because they sort of grab your attention. They stand out, as it were.

However, what’s it like to actually have big breasts?

Here’s an article from Men’s Health discussing the issue from a woman’s perspective.

It starts out:

I have had large  breasts for about 20 years. I’m 32, so let’s say, roughly, that my breasts were on their path to greatness halfway through the Carter administration. By the time Reagan was sworn in, I was officially stacked.

and ends:

Let’s cut a deal. We’ll wear nothing but low-cut shirts… if you promise to listen to everything we say when we’re wearing them.

I could easily copy and paste the whole article here but you can just as easily go and read it yourself.

It’s not the most profound article I’ve read on the subject but its written in a nice breezy style and honest without lecturing. For most guys I suspect that it will be eye opening – and I don’t mean eye popping.


I really don’t understand

It’s only a brief encounter. You have just walked into the waiting room at the railway station. As so often happens my internal radar picks up breasts in the vicinity straight away. Your t-shirt top is not that low cut but low enough to be very attractive. I wonder if you sometimes/often hate the attention your breasts draw.

I really don’t understand my own reaction even though I know it well. If I could, I would find a seat opposite you on the train and just stare at your breasts. I won’t but if you were sitting opposite me on the train I would find it really hard not to look. I would probably steal quite a few glances over the course of our journey.

I wish I wouldn’t. I wish I could sit opposite you and not look at your breasts once. Well of course I could if I really wanted to. If there was a “breast guard” ready to shoot me if I gave them even the briefest glance, I would make sure I didn’t. Not that I even need that. I could just determine to myself I wasn’t going to look. But it would be really hard. There would still be this part of me that really wanted to. Just like that part of me that finds it hard to resist that second piece of chocolate cake.

In the end though, as many times as a I think about it, I still don’t understand. I guess in some ways it’s nice that there is l’difference. It’s all about what we do with it.

Itty Bitty Titty Committee

I’ve recently been spending some time on Tumblr. Fascinating place – although I’m still getting used to how to navigate it. Some aspects of it are quite confusing to the uninitiated.

Regardless I’ve just come across a tumblr blog run by a Alex(andra) called the Itty Bitty Titty Committee. Alex regards herself as having itty bittiies. I love her blog. It exists as a place for members of the ITBC to how their pride in their small dimensions. There are text entries as well as photos. It’s just amazing to see how beautiful these women are. Not that I have ever though women with small breasts were not beautiful. It’s just seeing the whole collection of them that is amazing.

Some of the stories are quite touching as well.

Here is my first post on the ITBC:

I am a hopeless, self-confessed boob man. I just love breasts. I think they represent something really special about a woman. Having said this, I want to say, almost shout, that I love itty bittys as much as any other size. I am almost heartbroken when I read of women who think they are less attractive because they have small breasts. Over my life I have “fallen in love” with several girls/women who have had no noticeable breasts at all. The first two were when I was at high school and at a distance. I never really had any sort of relationship with them. Since then there have been other women I have been extremely attracted to and become very who have had very tiny breasts and one who describes herself as “having no bust at all.” When I first met my partner (and mother of our four daughters) she would have qualified as “itty bitty”. – although I never ever thought of her like that.

Looking at the photos on this blog I continue to be amazed at how beautiful the women in them are. I read somewhere recently “men just love to be in the company of a naked woman.” It’s really true.

Finally I’d like to say I am slightly disturbed when women refer to themselves by their bra size – and when men ask. A woman’s bra size can change a lot depending on the style and make of bra. Other factors can make her breasts get larger or smaller. So I’d rather just refer to women perhaps as being petite. Surely that’s all we need.

Go check it out.

Breasts are really nice

Oh dear, I wish we men could talk about breasts both more openly and more respectfully.

I’m in the process of writing a story about me teenage experience with breasts – and all my teenage experiences of breasts were at a distance.

I’ve been noticing two distinct reactions I had. There were those I had at the beach – where topless sun baking was just becoming quite popular – or where I saw a woman with a low cut top or even, occasionally, a nude woman on TV. Oh, yes, I forgot. There were photos of women in magazines – some of which I owned. These sights were incredible arousing and powerful. The feelings they brought up in me seemed almost uncontrollable. I say almost but I knew they were controllable and my desire to respect women was developing just as strongly at this time.

There was another type of reaction though. I remember this most distinctly seeing a woman wearing a thick woollen jumper with the shape of her breasts noticeable but not overpowering. This brought up a quite different kind of feeling. It made me feel warm. I guess it made me think of woman as mother/nurturer/protector. To be in the presence of a woman dressed like this was really nice and made me feel gentle. I thought of woman as both extremely powerful and at the same time extremely delicate.

In the course of research for this blog – and what other reason could I possible have – I review posts about breasts fairly regularly and many of these posts come with pictures. Indeed many of them have very few words indeed. Recently I have come across a couple of shots of slightly older women lying top-free on their backs. This sight has brought out the same feeling of gentleness. Perhaps because in this situation the woman is allowing herself to be vulnerable and if were there I would want to respect this so that she feels safe.

I’ve written before that I think breasts have become, for western men, a symbol of womanhood. Breasts bring up most of the same complex reactions that women do for us.

For the moment though, I just want to say breasts are nice.

Oh that maxi dress is beautiful

Oh, that maxi dress you are wearing is beautiful.

I love the sort of halter top part. I say sort of because it’s not a straight halter top. Interesting. The shoulder straps form a deep v at the front – ok not halter at all you say. But just where the straps join the dress itself is another set of straps that cross over and give the impression of being a halter dress. So there is a diamond formed by the straps at the front which frames the space between your breasts. I hate the word “cleavage.” To me it implies a showy-ness that is not at all the impression you have.

Yes the dress is cut deeply at the front and the fabric wraps snugly against your (obviously braless) breasts. Then you have a short black knitted bolero top covering not much more than your shoulders. With your black hair tied back from the front the overall effect is quite lovely. Almost stunning, but just slightly understated.

Lovely to see you.


I don’t really have much time for Valentine’s Day. Just another commercially organised event to get us spending money.

But today I heard Eve Ensler speaking to Margaret Throsby about the V-Day movement founded by Eve.

Quite a moving interview.

V-Day is celebrated on the 14th February each year and the “V” stands for Victory, Valentine and Vagina. (Ensler first major work was The Vagina Monologues.) The movement is about Victory over violence to women.

Now that’s something I can get excited about.

Head on over and sign up.

Back is the new breast

If you’ve followed this blog at all you’ll know I’ve been fascinated with breasts for a very long time.

My last post regarding my theory of breast obsession has opened my eyes to a new, fascinating and quite beautiful world.

Of course I’ve always known that you are more than just a pair of breasts, but it has been interesting over the last week or so to notice just how much more I notice about you than just your breasts and what I notice in particular.

This week has been about your back. It is indeed quite beautiful. The way your shoulders curve ever so gently to hint at the hourglass they begin. How your back emphasises your waist and hips. How it curves inwards so gracefully.

I don’t think I’m unique in noticing this about you. I think we (men) all do. It’s just that we don’t notice we notice. Some wiring got misplaced in our brains centuries ago that made us focus on your breasts and it has been copied down the generations of men ever since.

As rational beings we are absolutely capable of re-wiring our brains – we just have to want to. It’s about time we realised not only the damage our obsession wreaks but also everything we have missed out on because of it.

take care,


A new theory of breast obsession

It’s no secret that men (at least Western men) are, by and large, obsessed with breasts.

In case you’ve just arrived here from Mars, here are a few articles to help you learn about this phenomenon:

Given all that’s been written and said about the topic, I thought Breaststories should add our voice to the discussion.

I have a new theory about breast obsession.

My theory is we don’t love breasts at all. We love naked women – we are programmed to. Breasts have become a symbol of nakedness for us. The sight of a breast has become a trigger for our thinking we might see a naked woman. The sight of a nipple has become a stand in for nakedness.

Now most of us don’t think about this much. We just experience this powerful feeling and respond in one of the ways familiar to anyone who has watched many interactions between men and women – usually very distastefully.

I don’t believe there is any excuse for us to behave in such a manner. I believe as a species with the capacity for thought, reflection, empathy and love we can control our actions. We may not be able to control the experience of a powerful feeling at the sight of a naked woman, but we can control how we act in response to that experience.

So here I want to separate the internal response from the outward actions that so often follow it. I want to discuss that internal response and some of the thinking that goes with it.

We find women’s bodies beautiful. I have just spent a couple of weeks holidaying by the beach where there were lots of women with not much covering them. It was an opportunity to be reminded how beautiful they are. It’s not just their breasts that are beautiful but their whole shape. Your hips, your waist, the curve of your spine, the way you walk and yes even the way your breasts gently bounce as you walk. But it is not just one part of you that is beautiful it is all of you.

Your breasts have become a substitute reminder for that whole beauty. Sometimes when we catch a glimpse of your breast, the sight overpowers us. It is so beautiful. But it is beautiful in context of the whole of you.

Now we men are strange creatures. We act in strange ways. Because we so often notice your breasts but much less frequently see you naked, we have learnt to focus on your breasts and forgotten the reason they excite us so much.

And also because we are strange creatures we mess it all up. We focus on one part of you and almost completely forget the rest of you is there. As if that part of you is somehow separate from you.

So that’s my theory about breast obsession. I’d love to know what you think.



A profoundly beautiful sight

It’s a beautiful warm summer’s day. Not a cloud in the sky and just a gentle breeze. In those days we were all just learning about the dangers of sun exposure so we thought a bit of sunscreen and we could still lie in the sun for hours. It was our afternoon off and we were enjoying the opportunity to relax in the warm sun.
Your towell was next to mine but a little closer to the water so as I looked over I could just see the top of your head.
You, Judy and I had become really good friends over these last few years as we all came together for this annual ten day program and the planning that went with it. You had let us know that your man had asked you to marry him and you had said yes although you hadn’t announced it yet. We were so happy for you. John was going to be joining us in a couple of days but for the moment it was just the three of us from the old guard. We were enjoying each other’s company.
Just as I was thinking about the times we had had together I looked over to you sun baking with your eyes closed. As I looked I noticed your bikini top had slipped down on the side closest to me to reveal a circular area just a little darker than the skin around it and very flat and smooth. As a friend one voice inside said to look away. But another voice was saying “this is very beautiful, appreciate it.” I acted on that second voice. It was a beautiful sight. Your breast was so round and smooth. There was something quite intimate in that moment as well – just appreciating your beauty.
You must have felt my gaze because you opened your eyes, looked over at me and realizing what had happened adjusted your top. As our eyes met, you smiled. Partly from embarrassment, but partly also because there was a moment of sharing. A closeness. I was embarrassed that you caught me looking at you. But I was also partly glad. It deepened the moment somehow. I was no longer an undetected voyeur. You knew I found you attractive even though the circumstances made it a little uncomfortable for you.
I’m sorry I broke the trust between us. But I am glad for the experience.