We Hate Boob Implants

Last night The Girlfriend and I were doing some channel surfing and found

The Hooters International Swimsuit Pageant.

Of course we started watching it and a game developed that I call Find The Real Ones.

The game is simple:

As each girl says her name and where she's from and then walks down the catwalk, you decide if her boobs are real or fake. Hint: For those of you who aren't very good at telling the difference between real, God-given boobs and fake, doctor-given boobs, just say fake for all of them. You've got about a 90% chance of being right.

While watching 100 Hooters women parade up and down the catwalk in barely-there swimsuits, I realized something about myself: I hated these girls. But why? I didn't even know these girls and would likely never know them, but it was true... I hated them. Now that I've thought it over a bit, I've come to the conclusion that I hate fake things and these girls seemed completely fake; like they had all been spit out of a machine from a single mold and plopped onto the stage with swimsuits and different colored hair. But what bugged me the most?

The implants.

I don't care if boobs are a D-cup or an A-cup or anything in between;

I WANT THEM REAL

I love women. I love boobs. I don't love robots and bags of saline. I find myself getting angry just thinking of all the women who willingly cut their beautiful breasts open and shove bags of saline into them, thinking that this will make them more appealing. Maybe it does make them more appealing to men, but us lesbians? Nah. I think the majority of us like 'em real. Maybe it's because of our natural feminist instincts (yes, we've all got some feminism in us) or maybe it's our complete hatred of being put on display for a man's benefit... Or maybe it's something else, but lesbians don't like fake boobs.

There's just something gross and unnatural about an 80-year-old woman with perky boobs...

Point made.