The Independent Voice of Southern Methodist University Since 1915

The Daily Campus

The Daily Campus

The Independent Voice of Southern Methodist University Since 1915

The Daily Campus

The Independent Voice of Southern Methodist University Since 1915

The Daily Campus


Manipulating the breast man

The Single Gal

Strategically placed mounds of fat. Blunt enough for you?

I have yet to find the answer as to why these blobs, if you will, manage to get women both into and out of many predicaments.

While I cannot comprehend the male fascination with these fat globules, I do recognize how I can manipulate the male gender with my mounds.

I understand and acknowledge the well-known fact that I can have power over men by utilizing my breasts if I choose my actions carefully and appropriately.

Now, having said this, let it be known I do concur with the male gender on that which follows.

I realize I gain power that manipulates men through my strategically placed mounds of fat.

Therefore, when I put on my Victoria’s Secret push-up bra (whereby I can practically rest my chin on my chest) and on top of said bra, I wear my tight, considerably low-cut v-neck black shirt (not that I own such a thing), I am asking or perhaps even begging for attention!

Whether or not I get the attention I desire, namely that of a gorgeous, tall, intelligent, charming male (but alas, he speaks and ruins all doubt of his perfection), is no longer within my power.

I have put my mammary apparatus out for all to view. I have bared that which I want to be observed out and up for public display.

The metaphor I see for this is that of an art gallery, many beautiful paintings, each different and unique in their own way, but nevertheless all are still on exhibition.

This is precisely where I agree with my male counterpart. If I wear such an outfit, I must accept any and all attention which occurs thereafter.

It can come in many fabulous forms, such as gawking (for those of you that don’t know the definition, per, “To stare or gape stupidly” which I find rather appropriate.)

Additionally, it can come in the “crude remark” form, which I am sure all the ladies have personally experienced on countless occasions from their favorite overly attractive construction worker with the overly attractive gut to go with the adorable face.

Along these same lines of the “crude remark” form comes the “howling like a dog in heat” form, and, no doubt, the “whistling in the most suggestive yet most obnoxious possible way” form.

Of course we cannot leave out the fabulously wonderful “gesture” form.

You know what I’m talking about. Men make gestures as if they were holding two cantaloupes out in front of them, bouncing them in a manner you will never see a woman do. They bloat their cheeks out and widen their eyes so as to establish a large visual effect for whomever they are performing.

I do not, however, condone the touching of said strategically placed mounds of fat, unless on a strictly consentual basis.

Sorry boys, I’m not giving you an all-access, without-limits pass to our breasts. Perhaps you could compare my pass to a gift card for a massage, but, purely on an appointment basis.

Come on now, if I gave you an all-access, without-limits pass to our prized possessions you’d probably lose all intrigue with our breasts, mountains, blobs, ta-tas, breastisses, boobs, coconuts, melons, knockers, hooters, our strategically placed mounds of fat.

After all, if men lose their enchantment with that, what else do we have to hang over their heads? (No pun intended.)

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