Let's talk about chicks who want mammoth mammeries for a minute. Those who, when posed the question, say, "Oh plastic surgery? I've been wanting to get a boob job since I was 13."
Even when it's pointed out that they barely had "nubbins" showing on their washboard chests at 13 they're still pretty adamant that big, silicone-infused breasts are what they've been asking Father Christmas for their whole lives.
The problem with altering your looks that way is that it's never just a "little nip, tuck or enhancement here or there." Plastic surgery enthusiasts have been watching Dr 90210 since their parents let them stay up that late.
Oh, and experiencing collagen injected into your smoochers for the first time is perhaps more significant than that first kiss. Ask Lindsay Lohan, she should know. It seems as if collagen is so addictive that you may as well start injecting it into your veins just so you don't ever run out. Extreme? Case in point ? the Brazilian model, Sheyla Hershey, who was in a critical condition after her 38KKK boob job complications.
In theory, a C Cup would be good enough for me. And that's only if Discovery offered to pay for it. Yet Sheyla wasn't happy with a C. A KKK ? resembling two identical Mount Everests perched on her chest ? was more her style.
I'm wondering, what one does with titties the size of Soccer City? How does one? stuff them in? And more importantly, how is that comfortable? How is that over-compensation of udder even half-attractive to the opposite sex?
Does one need a skin graft? Because, let's be frank, a KKK-sized breast could easily park itself on your tennis court. However, debates of ridiculous size aside, how could a breast augmentation of that scale not involve any complications? I've no doubt her doctor warned her (at the very leas? though why he agreed in the first place I'll never know. Perhaps his warning was a little hard to decipher, like: "Look, I don't reckon this a great idea. Why not go for the lesser-known, less risky JJJ cup instead?"
Models like Sheyla who are mentally questionable, are luckily less than 0.5% of the global population. However, those that aren?t ordering triple-letter milk jugs, are 1 in 5. At least in Johannesburg.
I have a friend who has been saving to have a boob job since she was 16. Her parents would give her a rand or two to wash their cars over the weekend, in order to save for bigger noombies.
To be fair, my mate makes surfboards look deceptively curvaceous. The Cape Flats is the Andes in comparison. My friend yearns for breasts, of any size and any proportion, but she's not asking for triple letters. All she wishes for is to walk into a lingerie store and have the attendant size up her breasts with an approving nod of her head, rather than a raised eyebrow and fixed smirk whilst gesturing towards the gel padding in the back corner of the store.
Sheyla wants breasts on top of her breasts, on top of even more breasts. Perhaps it's her "feature". You know ? that one aspect of her body that sells her as a unique model worth employing?
If around R30 000 gets you a sound BJ (read "big job") then fair enough. But medical aid won't foot the bill, and, let's face it, your rich husband will probably buy the fast car before he buys you boobs.
And even if he did send you off for a quickie with silicon and a scalpel, he'd hesitate to pull out his platinum plastic if you'd let on that you want to pitch life-size silicone tents on your chest.
If your uddery-twins leave tottering unsteadily on your heels he shouldn't pay for them. As my fuller-breasted peers will tell you; big boobs come with big aches. Complications that involve back ache and the chance of other even more sinister medical problems.
Boobs are highly measurable human assets. Too big and you're Dolly Parton's body double, too small and you're not desirable enough. But where should we draw the line when it comes to size?