I could kill this zany idea with a single observation, if I didn't suspect that it is intended to be entertainment, nothing else. So I'll leave the serious comment for the final paragraph.

Boy! you intellectual types try to take the joy out of everything, don't you? First of all, let me reassure you that the supplying of nutrition to a suckling infant is the least of the contributions the female breasts contribute to the welfare of mankind. That smile on the little one's face isn't just because of the taste of the beverage, (yukky, don't ask!), but because of a brief return to the ecstasy of total comfort.

Without the constant promise of the existence of such comforts many a man, and woman, would put a gun to his head during hard times. Tropical wear is the sole explanation of why more people in the tropics walk around with a smile on their faces, than in temperate or frigid climates, unless there's a famine or war or pestilence or natural disaster on. Those disasters are to compensate for the year round bounty of half-exposed pulchritude, male and female, some kind of karmic law I suppose. The women get their little ogling on too! I've seen them. We get caught because we have to look up, they look down, and they take it in real quick! Check it out. (I'm citing Chris Rock here, I believe; but he opened my eyes, it's true!)

I suggest that you burn the bra, (where have I heard that one before?) and let the girls run free. Leave the heavy lifting to us guys. I'll bet you would get all the help you want in that general area, if you know what I mean. Would that be green power or girl power, or the power of the girls.

I suggested once to my wife that we could hook up a bicycle dynamo to the marriage bed and return some of the energy expended there to the grid. "Let's go pay the light bill!" would be the rallying call there. "That's gross," she demurred; the romantic type.

The mention of the bicycle dynamo brings me to the serious observation. The idea of human generated electrical energy has been around for most of the last century. It was pushed during one of the last wars as a means of taking the pressure off the war effort, by reducing the demand on batteries. (This from a very distant and cursory memory.)

The point being, that there are parts of the human body that generate a lot more energy over a much wider range of motion than the female breasts. I refer to the legs and arms. Again, this is old hat. I still have a watch that never runs down because of the motion of my left arm as long as I'm awake. So, the technology is all there already, Ms. So, so you don't need to reinvent the wheel. In fact it's been there for so long the patents are probably all in the public domain already, although I'm not sure know how these things work, and I should. I have some zany ideas of my own I'd like to expose to scrutiny, but re-inventing the wheel, or the female bra, isn't one of them.

Let the girls run free? Jesus Christ in a 32F. Tell you what--if you think it's such a thrill to have a pair of glorified udders flopping around on your chest, take mine. YOU enjoy the ecstasy of total comfort that comes from lying on your stomach and having most of the pain receptors between your chin & kidneys complain. Laugh at the way your chest looks ridiculous when you try to move or speak up, cuz it's totally funny when a boob-bearer does that stuff. Make your boring old job, commute or social circle into a thrilling game of Wack-a-Douche. That's the fun in funbags, baby. I'm sorry your poor deprived sex can't have any.

kelvinminus:

Let the girls run free? Jesus Christ in a 32F. Tell you what--if you think it's such a thrill to have a pair of glorified udders flopping around on your chest, take mine. YOU enjoy the ecstasy of total comfort that comes from lying on your stomach and having most of the pain receptors between your chin & kidneys complain. Laugh at the way your chest looks ridiculous when you try to move or speak up, cuz it's totally funny when a boob-bearer does that stuff. Make your boring old job, commute or social circle into a thrilling game of Wack-a-Douche. That's the fun in funbags, baby. I'm sorry your poor deprived sex can't have any.

I'm SO unsophisticated, and monogamous, that I still can't make head or tail of these brassiere sizes. All I can say is if they're too large then that is a clinical condition as much as flat feet or a curved spine. The need for clinical intervention is shared by us all, some more than others. It's not your special cross. You'll be lucky if that's your worse medical problem before you reach three-score and ten. It's life.

We all have our crosses to bear, sweetheart, so quit complaining! Doing good is never easy, otherwise everybody would be doing it. The reward is the joy you get in being almost irreplacably meaningful to others than yourself, and I'm not even joking now.

Most infants emerge from the terrible twos when they gradually discover that they are not really the center of the universe. Their reward is discovering that the rest of the world is a fun exciting place that can pay back effort with joy. Some people never quite get over the shock of not being first in their world, and spend the rest of their lives trying to get back to that infantile state. These range from the total sociopaths, to the narcissistic, to the annoyingly selfish and stingy types. I suppose these immature types find their own joy in their own little worlds, but they don't seem happy to me.

I'm quite serious when I say that women's bodies, faces and bosoms included, are a source of enduring joy to most men, and women too, and I hope that women can understand and appreciate this gift they have for bringing happiness to the world in general and to at least one man/person in their live in particular. As the song goes:

"A pretty girl, is like a melody ...."

Even if you're not heterosexual, I hope you're not so asexual, or resentful of your gender role that you can't find this source of joy, in or from other people, either as a donor or recipient. Personally, I try to complement every pretty, (no happy, no pleasant) woman I see, who's willing to make eye contact, with a smile; because the smile I get in return always seem to linger in me as she goes her way. You can't do this to a flower or a landscape, no matter how beautiful, so it's nice to be able to say by a simple smile, "Thank you for giving me pleasure just by looking at you." I'm truly sorry that you are unhappy with your endowments, but it's not an intractable problem, but try an attitude change, at least.

brerlou makes a good point. I know boobs can be an inconvenience for girls (my younger sister has large boobs and is an athlete and complains all the time) and can be embarrassing, attracting much more attention than you probably want. But on balance they really do make guys happier than they otherwise would be. It's something that's kind of obvious and seems like a stupid thing to say, but never the less it's true. I also know girls generally like boobs too for their aesthetic value.

When you get a lot of unhappy young guys together wars or riots can start so who knows how many lives have been saved thanks to boobs :-).

See!!! Kelvinminus, don't let the cold that creeps into your bones, take over your spirit.

You're beautiful!

Pity you can't enjoy it! Try. Start with the kids.

Go ahead, ask yourself, what aesthetic experience is there in this world that can make you happy just by seeing, or hearing, or seeing or feeling it?

Now, how much input do you really have in creating that beauty, probably not much? I wish I could choose the way in which I could pay back the universe for the pleasure I take out of it. I'd choose to be a handsome young stud, who could drive girls to ecstasy with a touch, as well as a world-class musician who could create songs of ineffable beauty to melt the hearts of the fans, and then I'd want to be Tiger Woods, and so on and so on; but I'm not, so I try instead to pay the world by helping a few people over their humps, and making my little grand-daughter laugh, and my sons feel that they don't have to meet life's challenges alone. It's not much, but I don't need a lot to make me happy.

Get it? I know why Oprah risks sounding like Pollyanna everyday as she tries to use her wealth to turn the world into one big girl scout cookie camp. I'm not knocking her, at all because I know what she's going for. She's going for the joy!

Once you've made it in this world and can have any material thing you want, you have to decide: do I go for the pride of more possessions, or the sensual pleasures of the body, or the adrenalin rush of adventure, or the power of leadership, or the satisfaction of showing others the way, or the simple pleasure of turning someone's life from misery to joy? None of these things are mutually exclusive. The real tragedy only comes when in going after the one you exclude the others. (I know food is the first and easiest pleasure, but try the other nipples, a little at a time. Don't give in to the urge to infantile regression that comes upon all of us at some time or another. No, I don't know you I'm just generalizing for others in your boat, by extrapolation.)

As for the pain; I've lived with pain for a large part of my life, my fault for the most part, showing off, reckless, careless, in that order, and then there's growing older; but the one thing that physical exercise has taught me, is that physical pain might be able to block some physical pleasure, but it cannot exclude a happiness born of the mental joys and satisfactions that come from achieving things, receiving things, and sharing in the joys of others ... whether they be family, team-mates, or the world. That's the gusto Oprah is going for. Can you blame her? Try it.