I want to talk about boobs this morning.
Boobs, and other sundry bits and bobs that come in varying shapes and sizes on a woman's body.
In fact, if I'm going to be precise, I want to talk about nipples because the Plastic Surgery Group in America has declared a new trend. And here it is. The trend in 2017, people, is for smaller nipples. Not for you gentlemen, of course. Yours can come in all shapes and sizes and attached to pecks or moobs, and with hair as well if you like.
But women? Well, smaller nipples are the new black.
The Plastic Surgery Group (honestly, have a look at their website) is doing a bit of a deal at the moment. If you want to get a boob job - I think they like to call it breast augmentation - you can get smaller nipples too, and they'll sort out that flabby belly as well. A tummy tuck. A mummy make-over, if you like. Job done.
And the on-trend breast size has changed as well. I'm not sure who dictates this. Who decides what's fashionable in breast size? Anyway, ideally you should now be a solid B cup. B is the new D.
I'm aware that I may be stating the obvious here, but it's a little hard to keep up with body trends given that you're born with a shape and even with the best diet and a truckload of exercise, your shape is in essence, your shape.
You might be a pear. Perhaps you're an apple. Or an hourglass. Or a stick insect. Or maybe even a 44-gallon drum. But, well, you can't really change your shape - unless you go under the knife, or perhaps visit a beauty therapist who has an encouraging but frozen face, and is armed with a syringe full of botox or collagen.
I don't understand plastic surgery and in particular, I've never understood the desire for fake breasts. What is desirable about inserting an elastomer silicone shell with saline solution or silicone gel into your chest by slicing underneath your boob, and placing this bubble of silicon between your existing breast tissue and the pectoralis major muscle. That's not a breast, people. It's a prosthetic. What's the appeal? It doesn't look or feel like a normal breast.
I saw a woman on social media at the weekend who's recently had a boob job, but they look odd. Her boobs no longer appear to be talking to each other. I think they've had an argument, because they seem to be trying to get away from each other. Pert? Yes. Inflated? Yes. But they were, well, sort of attached oddly on the side of her rib cage, and you could drive a Mini Clubman through the middle of them. I thought cleavage was the goal. No? How wrong could I be? There's no jiggle. No wiggle. Just this sort of bolt-on thing that hangs off the side of your ribcage.
And then you've got the Kim Kardashians of the world. You can't get an ass that size unless you sew a large pillow into each butt cheek. And how does she fit in the bath? I've always wondered that. And if she's trying to squeeze past tables in a restaurant, does her ass take most of the cutlery and serviettes with her?
And then you've got lips - oh, the fish lips. Fish lips that are triggered by the collagen injections women use to plump up their lips. I was in a bar the other day with a friend and we wondered if we'd accidentally walked into an aquarium. There were women with puffed-up lips and puffed-up cheeks. Honestly, it was like being in a room full of snapper. Am I missing something here?
I do have grave fears for the future of women, though. I think we're losing our marbles. On one hand we want to be taken seriously, we want pay parity, we want equality and we rise up against any sign of sexism or misogyny.
And on the other, we're running around inflating bits of our bodies in the name of beauty. Honestly, the way we're going at the moment, the ultimate woman's figure will soon resemble a duck. We'll have huge beak-like lips, a small chest with fake nipples, and we'll be waddling around with a great big booty out the back.
I was reading my son a Dr Seuss book this week and I smiled when I read this quote.
"Today you are you. This is truer than true! There is no one alive who is you-er than you!"
Amen to that, people. Keep it real.
Rachel Smalley: We're making boobs out of ourselves
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