Boobs. Men love'm. Babies love'm more. I'm going to try to meet the new Hofzinser Blogger Challenge, but it is going to be a real challenge. I don't know if I can tell why men love boobs, but I can tell you how I love them. Maybe by the end, I'll get to why (hell... maybe I'll be talking about religion by the end... ya neva kno).

I'll start with size, because for me, bigger is not better. A and B cups are perfect. I was never a fan of strip clubs. Watching pendulous sacks of flesh pushed together to accept $1 bills has never been a big deal to me. There are plenty of other parts of the female body that are far more appealing. And since Dane was born, I see them as (the women are going to hate me for this) functional. I'm not saying I ignore them, I just don't focus on them. They aren't only play toys for men, but a way to feed and nourish an infant.

Now, I may not be a breast man, but I'm a huge cleavage fan. I'm forever grateful of Victoria's Secret, who made the wonder-bra. Because it's the "in" thing, all these women are wearing them, making me salivate. I love to gawk and stare, at a pair in the there (I knew I could fit Dr. Seuss in there some where). The best boob is a pushed up boob. Once naked, they go back to functional status.

As to why men are so fond of breasts, it's beyond me. We could look at it from a biological perspective, in that, breasts are the immediate physical signifier of a female. (I have another theory about why men are so crazy about seeing two women kiss, but that is for another day... maybe Hof's next challenge!) And for some, that may be why bigger is better, it's more obvious.