The Ultimate Answer

…in which Uncle Duke takes a hard look at breasts.

I like breasts. I’m not sure why. But I do know that I have liked them since I was a little boy. I would hesitate to call it a lifelong obsession. But it has been what you could call an enduring fascination. As a boy I was less fascinated by the sexual act itself than I was access to breasts. They were titillating, true (What’s the derivation of that word?) but they were more than that. Breasts were mystical, magical things. Beyond reach. Untouchable. Girls had them. Boys didn’t. Breasts were Power. Breasts were Big Magic. Girls had it. Boys didn’t. They were great equalizers in the schoolyard balance of power. When the moral training and religious upbringing was all stripped away, it was the possibility of sharing a pair of breasts that made us be polite to girls. I hesitate to say it, but it was the promise of access that induced us to civility.

There is a good explanation for this fascination. As my generation came along, breast-feeding fell out of fashion. It was replaced by formulas derived from dairy products. Our mothers were nutritionally replaced by Holsteins. Their nutritious, distinctive mothers’ milk, enriched with naturally occurring vitamins, minerals and antibodies was replaced by vapid, pasty, all-the-same formula. And there was a tactile separation as well. Their warm, supple nipples were replaced by cold, gummy rubber thingies. And the soft, pliable breast itself was replaced by hard, brittle glass and plastic. I’m sure Freud would have had a lot to say about this if he’d known about it.

At any rate we were deprived children. Sure, we had electric trains and doll buggies and bicycles, but we were nevertheless deprived. There is something about starting life at your mother’s breast which is warm and loving and reassuring--something which remains with us throughout our lives. Over and above the nutritional and immunological advantages, there is something about it which fixes us in the center of the cosmos and tells us we are terribly significant. We are in the parlor, there is a fire in the hearth, we are surrounded by love and attention. All is well. With a baby bottle, we are in a chilly wing of the house being raised by hirelings. We might as well be getting it out of a soda machine, buying it by the six-pack. “Hungry?” the hirelings sneer. “Grab a can out of the fridge. If you want it warm, nuke it yourself. It is our birthright, as mammals, to suckle. To be deprived of it is to perpetually seek out the withheld breast in sleazy video stores and with inappropriate partners.

Size is not an issue by the way. In this country, colossal has always been synonymous with quality. I beg to differ. Not with breasts. Large is good. Small is good too. The circle is perfect, and breasts are perfectly round. They are circles within circles. You can’t get any better than that. Magnitude is only good for display purposes. You pay more for your Double AA Large in the egg department, and DD cups may be worth more in the pornography trade. But day in and day out, for what-you-call your working breast, A’s are just fine. Size is no advantage.

It is curious that breasts have come to have a double function in child rearing and sexual foreplay. It is my feeling that the latter is a recent development. Unless I’m mistaken, cow utters do not play a major role in bovine foreplay. Biologists do not report that any species of ape or monkey is really very much interested in the female’s chest. All of their interest lies in the business end of the beast. That’s where all the coloration is. Their erogenous zones seem to be very specific and are definitely below the waist. Humans as far as I know are the only species which pay any attention to breasts as anything other than mammary glands.

The evolutionary record is sketchy on this, but if breast were anywhere near as important to our prehistoric ancestors, you’d have seen a lot more of them depicted on cave walls. My theory is that they became important in the sexual realm either right before or right after we began to cover them up. Historically, that which you can’t see becomes desirable. When you shield things, you simultaneously mystify them---and they become electric. Also, you protect parts of our bodies from the elements, and they become more sensitive. Voila! Heck of a theory, eh?

Present day humans on the other hand glorify the breast. It has become the center of sexuality. On this planet, in this culture, bosoms have become one of the Four Great Attractors, along with Power, Wealth and Fame. Men desire them and pay millions every month to look at magazines and videos and live shows which feature them. ‘Boobs on display’ is big business. Culturally, it is frowned upon. Politically it is viewed as sleaze. But in the market place, the real world, they are big bucks. In movies, one full-frontal flash is worth huge box office bucks. Hollywood executives could probably give you an exact dollar figure. Men will risk any and all of the other Three Great Attractors for a glimpse of the Fourth. It is an amazing thing.

Women want them too. They are Power. Breasts demand Attention. The cosmetic surgery industry bounces merrily along on breast augmentations and implant procedures. Health risks be damned. We’ll sue later. Self-images are boosted, shoved, hoisted squeezed and uplifted by push-up bras. Miracles are bought and sold every day over the counter and through the catalogs. The lingerie business is booming with subtle padding and under-wire support. Structural engineers have found whole new career opportunities, working for people named Victoria and Frederick

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I haven’t even touched upon breasts and the advertising industry---the Breast as tool, the Breast as icon. You want to sell cars, chalupas or trash bags, a little cleavage goes a long way. It is a no-brain thing. Show Me the Hooters! Dangle some pendulous ta-ta’s on the screen or on a billboard and you are in business.

The more I think about it, breasts may be THE Great Attractor, with the first three being simply things we acquire to bargain for the latter. It may have to do with the Earth as Mother metaphor. I don’t know. I don’t try to make sense of it. It just makes me crazy. All I know is this: Breasts are The Answer! I forget the question.