Note: The following text objectifies women and reduces them to sexualised objects. It does not consider the Other but is an exercise in pure indulgence.

Edit: Now that I am rereading this, I understand this text is very weird and might really need a cleaning of its moral compass. But I am leaving it there to acknowledge that this is part of me.

PS. stupidest thing chatgpt has told me: “Morality in writing operates differently than morality in action: one is about consequences in reality, the other is about representation and exploration.”

As I write this sitting in a corner seat at the cafe in campus, there is a girl who is sat across me at the next table, facing me. From the corner of my eye—yet another corner—I can see that she is wearing a light pink pull-over. But I am afraid to steal a glance at her because she might catch me looking, and more importantly, if I were to look at her, my eyes would wander towards her breasts. Breasts are mesmerising. Not non-existent breasts, but breasts which project from the background of the body, even if only a little. Breasts which announce to the world that they are more than the surface on which they stand. Breasts which make a wrinkle in the fabric that covers them, sometimes stretching the fabric to the extent that the onlooker can feel the tautness of the fabric and the slight resistance the fabric offers by virtue of its tautness before it gives way to the richness of the breasts. Printed tee-shirts when stretched over a generous bosom distends the patterns and letters on the tee-shirt to follow the curvature. Plain tee shirts stretched over the frontal torso of a woman reminds me of a stretched canvas which shows the contours of the frame on which it lies. Large sized shirts hiding shapely breasts betrays the wearer by occasionally obeying the laws of physics and announcing to the world the curvature of the breasts they were expected to shield from the eyes of people like me.

I will now go out in search for breasts.

On the way back to my computer, I saw an old acquaintance whose breasts I had once caressed. During those years she had the habit of swimming a couple of laps every evening which kept her shoulders and arms toned. She had breasts which rose out of her body like a small wave that would not crash on the shore. She used to tell me to play with them, or with “whatever she had” as breasts. While I believe that attraction is not predicated on the form and size of breasts, I remember her breasts did not satisfy my urges. On the footpath I overtook a girl wearing a yellow tee shirt and a striped pair of pants, who kept herself as small as possible in the world. While I was overtaking her, she glanced at me, not to see me but to indicate to me and to herself that she was wary of people around her getting close to her personal space. I know this because I too do this often. Later, when I was crossing the road, I turned to check whether there were vehicles coming my way and I noticed her on the sidewalk. She had boobs which were young and full.

Breasts are, technically speaking, just a bunch of tissues (adipose tissues, mostly). There are ducts which cross these tissues to terminate on the nipples which are surrounded by differently pigmented areola. Some women like it when their partners suck the nipples and the areola, especially when the partner lands play bites on the nipples. At this move, nipples go turgid and the areola shrinks lightly, resembling the furrows which fingers make when they have been in contact with water for long. This reaction is a source of pleasure for the partner because it indicates that the recieving partner is ’turned on.’ The feeling that one can manipulate the pleasures of another being is often the source of pleasures for oneself.

Nora Ephron’s 1972 essay on breasts is a testament to the power of breasts, especially their power to denigrate the owners of small breasts. Outside of literature, cup sizes are the few instances where the alphabet can evoke joy in the mind of a person. An AA cup can be the source of shame while a C cup can increase a person’s confidence. A DD cup, perversely, can evoke shame just the way an AA cup does. The ability to match these alphabets to the reality of the body is an achievement, which is evidenced by the many communities, guides, and professions that teach a person how to find a fitting cup size.

Sometimes a larger bust can be the side effect of an undesirable condition of the body. Someone suffering from PCOD can have larger breasts which unfortunately does not indicate higher fertility. It might even be the reverse.

Breasts are often like shaved or waxed calves. If you let your imagination bloom, then every part of a woman can invoke the feeling of breasts. Cheeks, calves, thighs, pudenta, forearms. In a way, breasts are features of imagination as much as they are features of the physical body.