Excessive implants decrease desirability

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Posted on Wed, Apr. 05,

AMY ALKON: THE ADVICE GODDESS

Excessive implants decrease desirability

Q: I was attracted to my girlfriend of six months

before I ever saw her. During the first three months

we communicated by phone and e-mail for business. When

we met, I discovered she's beautiful -- with one

drawback: her enormous breast implants. Four years ago

she went from what was probably an attractive B to a

whopping DDD, and on a 5-foot-5-inch, 120-pound frame.

Her implants are the new kind that feel more lifelike,

but they don't turn me on, and they're embarrassingly

big and obviously fake.

She loves them and shows them off in low-cut tops,

while I find myself hinting that she should cover up

before we go out. She seems to be falling for me hard,

and the feeling is mostly mutual, but these implants

could be a deal-killer. -- D-D-Don't Like 'Em

A The moment a guy mentions a woman's looks, fingers

start wagging that it's what's inside that counts. And

yes, it is -- including whatever's factory-sealed into

those Hefty bags making up Mount Whitney and Friend.

Men's eyes always go to a woman's breasts. No guy's

going to avert his gaze from a set of Bs, or even a

set of bee stings. They're breasts. That's all that

matters. But, enter a pair like your girlfriend's,

lobbying hard for attention, and suddenly, it's not

just the guys' eyeballs wandering; their minds start

wandering, too: Is she a sex worker? Heir to porn star

Whoppers? Does her version of dressing in

" career separates " involve gluing on a pair of

tassels?

Being with a girl with freakishly huge, fake breasts

is a bit like being a celebrity -- the negative bit,

that is. Just as Crawford can't pick her nose in

public without it making the international press, you

can't get a cup of coffee without the guy behind the

counter asking your girlfriend's nipples if he can

take their drink order.

Unless her sweater hippos spring a leak, they aren't

going to get any smaller -- and neither will your

feeling that they're ugly, tacky and embarrassing.

Where you went wrong was in being so eager to make it

work with her that you ignored your feelings,

pretending that you might someday have the hots for

what grosses you out. You may like her, and mostly

enjoy being with her, but there's a part of her you

just can't accept -- the part that paid thousands of

dollars for a look that screams " Hooters is hiring! "

The right time to end this was the moment you saw the

pontoons bursting out of her tiny top and felt the

impulse, not to dive in, but to cover them with a

tarp. You don't have to reveal what you really think

of Dr. enstein's work. Just tell her you're a

low-key guy, and you're always going to feel out of

sorts with the crowds she draws with her chest.

Q: Whether it's a store clerk, a co-worker or a guy

I'm dating, when I ask men how much I weigh, they

always guess 20 to 30 pounds more. Doesn't a woman who

weighs 110 have a right to feel insulted if a guy

thinks she's 140? Why is it that men can never guess a

woman's weight? -- Asking for the Truth

A Why is it that women can never guess the number of

feet from the pitcher's mound to the batter's box, or

who's going to win NASCAR? There are men who make it

their business to tell women their correct weight:

nurses in internists' offices and the guys you see

standing next to a big scale at the county fair. As

for the rest, why ask? Do you spend so much time

poring over celebrity diets that you need to deflect

conversation from current events, lest a man delve

into uncomfortable questions like " Who's the current

vice president? " I missed the part in the Constitution

about " life, liberty and the pursuit of reasons to

feel insulted, " but you certainly are free to make men

miserable with questions they're unable to answer --

at least until they fake their own death to escape.

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Got a problem? Write Amy Alkon, 171 Pier Ave., #280,

Santa , CA 90405, or e-mail AdviceAmy@....

Amy is now blogging daily at www.advicegoddess.com.