Why Bigger Isn't Always Better

Consider this one a public service announcement for women on behalf of men. Those contemplating augmentation of your lower frontal lobes, stop. Hear me on this. Unless you have ambitions of being a stripper, porn star or a prolific practitioner of one-night stands, it's totally pointless. Little known fact -- men really don't care about breast size, as much as you think we do.

Sure, some are obsessed, but most of us are far less concerned than popular culture and lore would have you believe. Let me put it like this: Women appear to be way more fascinated with "size" than men. It's true. You see, feigning great interest in breast size, initially, is like a rite of passage for us. It's a sophomoric litmus test of our heterosexuality. If a friend says "damn, look at the set on her," we feel obliged by man law to look and respond with an equally juvenile comment. It's just how it goes.

And even as we mature and start hunting the drugstore aisles for Rogaine, we'll still notice a woman with an avalanche of cleavage. However, it's more spectator sport than anything else. When it comes to actually connecting with a woman and developing a meaningful relationship, bra size doesn't matter. Just because the boyfriend or husband cranes his neck every now and then for some passing titillation, doesn't mean that's what he wants. It's a novelty act, a fleeting fantasy. If a woman is actually "the one," her body doesn't need a set of perky girlfriends to act as an advance team. We're perfectly capable of being smitten or enamored with you without the help of the dynamic duo.

Now, in the case of women who are naturally larger, that's cool, too. I'm definitely not saying that women should run out and get reductions.

The world needs variety. The point is just be you. And if there happens to be some gravitational pull, so be it. You don't live your life in a spacecraft-defying laws of physics, nor do you need your breasts to resemble twin planets orbiting your face. At some point, if they haven't already, they're going to fall to Earth and that's okay. We'll be there to catch them.

Truth of the matter is "fakies" not only look unnatural, they feel unnatural. And any guy with any firsthand experience knows it. Think about it, ladies. It's like your man coming home after a procedure in Tijuana with an extra two inches. I can't say for sure, but if it's anything like augmented breasts, chances are it's going to feel lumpy and rubbery. And what woman wants a rubbery lumpy penis with diminished sensation? Yeah, I thought so. What's bad for the goose is bad for the gander.

A few final things to keep in mind:

1.) Men don't care about breast size nearly as much as women. Frankly, the only size that we really obsess about is our own, ironically, thanks to women.

2.) If you insist on augmentation, do your research and find a licensed professional with a solid and successful track record in this area. You don't want to be carved up like an overcooked Thanksgiving turkey by Botox Bob M.D. who's looking to expand his services because his Malibu property is in foreclosure. Very bad idea.

3.) And just because I said breast size doesn't really matter, don't really get it twisted. There is a time and a place for everything. If the fellas and I decide to get tacky with it and hit the local Hooters, we need a waitress who understands the expression, "When in Rome...".

4.) Last but far from least. There is something far more important. Breast exams, breast exams, breast exams. Take it seriously. We love you.

Mason Jamal writes about issues pertaining to the style, substance and sensibilities of men (and sometimes women). For more of his musings, you can visit www.MasonSays.com. You can also follow him on Twitter @masonsays.