Who can blame the staff of Facebook for removing any photo of a breastfeeding breast wherein the least bit of nipple and/or areola shows? After all, it’s right there in the U.S. Constitution: neither nipple nor involuntary areola, except as a product of pornography whereof the party shall have been duly aroused, shall exist within view of the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.
We may bear arms, bear our religion, and bear a fifth of whiskey; we may even use bears to block our doors so troops cannot quarter themselves in our house during peacetime; but at no time shall we bare the breast. Specifically we shall not bare the female breast; specifically we shall not bare the breastfeeding breast; specifically we shall not bare the female breastfeeding breast when an infant is in the picture, because most men find it inhibits their arousal.
Think of the mayhem that would ensue if we allowed the female B-word out into the open. Just look at Europe, those threadbare heathens! Their car companies are on the verge of collapse, their currency is weaker than a spent whore, and only the richest have adequate health insurance. Oh wait — that’s America. My bad.
Nonetheless, heretofore and whatnot, breasts are bad. Horrible, disgusting, inhuman even. The male of the species and those females who have never seen their own breasts have rightfully decided in what context a mass of mammary can be displayed -– and it ain’t to feed infants. Seriously, folks, why do you think God gave us formula? Am I right, China?
The sole purpose of the breast is to be augmented, photographed in as unseemly a fashion as possible, airbrushed, placed on pages more glossy than a hooker’s lips, sealed in plastic, confined behind a barrier of particle board on a magazine stand (so children and men under 5’7” can’t reach it), and marked “Adult Reading Material.”
A public show of the breast leaves nothing to the imagination. I know when I see a fully exposed breast on the train or at the playground the only thought running through my mind is “For cryin’ out loud, I might as well be looking right into the labyrinth of the labia.” Sure, it’s true that many people, both men and women, wouldn’t know a vulva from a Volvo; but while some think this is rank ignorance, I think it’s insuring the mystique of the female form.
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