We're running an ongoing contest on our Community Blog. Essentially, we give you a topic, you write a kick @$$ post about it in our community blog and share it with your friends and we pick a winner and send you the prize to your email. Write For YourTango And Win!
In honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, we're doing our part by hosting a breast-obsessed Twitter party, and you're invited! Health & Life Coach and YourTango Expert, Nicole Burley, will get the convo going by tackling such topics as physical attraction, how to play up your best assets, men's favorite body parts and more. She’ll also be answering all of your love, sex and relationship-related questions.
Obese women are more likely to be sexually abused. Promiscuous men like big-breasted women. Why hairy armpits can be sexy. Natural hair. Secret eating. More health benefits of chocolate. Giving back for Breast Cancer Awareness Month.
A new study shows that wearing makeup can make women appear more attractive, competent, likeable and trustworthy. Although the results sound legit, we can't help but notice that the study was done by Procter & Gamble, who own CoverGirl, Max Factor, Lacoste Fragrances and more. You do the math! But check it out for yourself and let us know if you agree...
It's always been a dream of mine to have a small piece of fabric, conspicuously shaped like a thong, to snap on to my bra in the rare occasion that my cleavage just isn't cutting it. Since there are plenty of everyday situations where a bodacious rack peaking through the v-neck of a cute top isn't appropriate—work, church and meeting the boyfriend's parents—the Cleava was designed to help women go from corporate to casual in no time, without the painstaking task of putting on a pesky camisole.
Eric Amaranth blogs on the dual role of women's breasts as sexual and maternal, plus breastfeeding and erotic feelings that breasts are naturally capable of.
You may not have realized this, but men love boobs: their pillowy softness, the mesmerizing way in which they bounce, the responsiveness of the nips to both slight climate changes and soft caresses... So it stands to reason that the more boobage you have, the more of a man magnet you'd be. Right? We put Bust-Up Cups cleavage enhancers to the test. Did men notice?
Every time I step outside my front door, I'm subconsciously indexing all the important things I need to be aware of. Cars, buses, cabs, anything that moves and could break my spine? Check. Where I'm going, how to get there, and what time it is? Check. Is that dog poop on the sidewalk? Yes. But the remaining percentage of my brain? It's focusing on breasts. If it's between catching a train and taking an extra 10 seconds to stare at the top half of some woman digging in her purse for her cell phone, I'm missing the train. It has to end. I must become Spartacus to Breasts' Rome. Here is my plan.
Boobies, tatas, jugs, melons, bubbies (if you're a "Real Housewife" from New Jersey), there are so many nicknames, and about as many ways to show your appreciation for our girlie golden globes. But every lady has got a story about some boob hound who did her knockers wrong! So, dudes, because I can't look in those sweet eyes of yours and lie, I'm going to uncover titties for you, well, with some straight talk.
Women's Health has a great feature this month about bringing your breasts into sex. The piece points out that we talk about breasts all the time, but we're usually talking about the non-sexy aspects of the boob—cancer and breast-feeding for example. But boobs are also a sex organ, and WH lists a bunch ways to enjoy your breasts plus some interesting facts. Here are the best of their tips, plus a few of our own.
This isn't another story about the current state of a mother's breasts, the kind that—if you've never had kids—makes you decide right there and then that you will not be nursing any future children. Solely because you can't imagine ever describing your own breasts as "saggy," "lifeless," or "uneven." This is, however, a story of ownership. From one relationship stage to the next, these breasts seem have fallen under someone's else's domain—except my own.
As a kid, my ballet teacher nicknamed me Olive Oil because I was tall and skinny with long dark hair like the cartoon. By 14, puberty had left me squeezing into 32DD bras. My instant curves disgusted me. "You are not fat; you’re Zaftik," my mother would say in Yiddish, as she inspected my 5'7" and 120-lb. frame. She meant I carried my weight well. Large busts were so common among Jewish women they'd created a word in the Old Country for exactly what I'd inherited.