When I saw a headline for this "news" article which said "Kardashian's disease: What is it?" my initial response was, ummmm, it's the condition where a woman is not very attractive but has big tits and based solely on that she gets a ton of attention. Turns out she has psoriasis, but from now on I will refer to women like her as having Kardashian's disease. Which, let's face it, plenty of women would love to have.

Almost always I fully read any article that I post here but in this case I'm making an exception because I get extremely irritated if I have to read more than a sentence or two about Hollywood cunts and furthermore there are more important matters to get to. I've probably blogged about this before but I've never understood the fascination with big boobs. Well, OK, I understand the fascination; people (particularly men) are simple and stupid. Regardless, they simply have never impressed me. Sure, I really do have a predilection towards small and medium sized-ones. I even say "Yay for double-A!" Initially one would say all of this is because I'm a little person and biased towards smaller sized things in general. Maybe that's part of it, but that certainly isn't all of it.

One of the biggest issues I have? Gravity. Say you see a naked woman with big jugs and they're down to like her waist. And she's 20. C'mon, what's hot about this? Of course they won't sag if they're fake and reasonably new, but fake breasts are another conversation for another time.

I will give big boobs an edge in clothing; they will fill out a sweater or tight top or whatever in a very pleasing fashion like smaller boobs can't. However, smaller breasts look way better naked and the whole point is to get the girl naked so small breasts win.

Also, I think my favorite thing about boobs, no, I don't think it, I know it, is cleavage. You don't need big breasts to have awesome cleavage, and you don't have any of those gravity issues either.

OK it's another time now so we can have the convo about fake tits. Under almost any circumstances I deplore breast implants. If you've had a mastectomy and you're just looking to get things back to where they were, that's understandable. I suppose I can also understand if a woman is fully flat. Or has concave cans. But otherwise, I just can't allow them. Lucky for women out there that I'm not in charge of anything and so they're allowed to perpetrate a boob holocaust whenever they want.

I despise phoniness in whatever form it comes and that is a huge part of the prejudice against fake ones. Probably the biggest part. I also don't like the notion of messing up something that is perfectly nice to begin with for no truly good reason. Oh and then there's the fact that fake boobs just don't look right. Not only do they look bad but they apparently can feel bad too; I have never felt fake breasts myself but once heard them described them as feeling "crunchy." Gross.

I have heard plenty of explanations from women as to why breasts implants are OK. It's not just for attention from guys or to one-up other women or blah blah blah. Bullshit.

What's the point of doing it just for the attention, anyway? Do you really want the attention of people who wouldn't pay attention to you otherwise? And fuck other bitches, if all you've got to win on is boob size then you have nothing at all.

I know what every woman wants to bring up now: dick size. I think the phallic comparison is totally fallacious. Even if any of those pills actually worked or there was effective cock enhancement surgery none of it would translate to automatic increased attention and attractiveness because you can't just let it hang out like a woman can with her breasts without getting arrested. And you know, the interest in bigger dongs actually makes some sense for simple physiological reasons. Would I do it if I could? I dunno, maybe, maybe not. I'm not sure it's worth the risk of messing up what little I have, and since I can't just put it on display it would do precisely nothing to overcome my crippling insecurity or social issues.

I know the notion of "be happy with what you have" is easier said than done. I really do; I clearly have a metric fuckload of inadequacies -- real or imagined -- that I'm carrying around. But in the end, just deal with it, and please don't be an asshole and ruin a perfectly nice pair of hooters, alright?