‘puberty’

Michelle, Her Breasts, & the Male Gaze

I have a close friend in Santa Cruz, a therapist named Michelle, with whom I have lunch once a month. It’s usually pretty glorious, with several conversations going on at once—professional, personal, political, and mmm-this-bagel-is-perfect-isn’t-it. Yesterday we talked about women’s breasts. We were talking about breasts as symbols of sexuality—whether their owner wants that or not. We reminisced back to junior high school—when Michelle (in California) already had adult-sized breasts, and I (in New York) just gawked at such things wherever they were, whenever I could. Like a large number of early-teen boys, I was so overwhelmed by how amazing…

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