female breasts

Well, I'm sorry to say it, because I've been trying to walk the razor's edge between those who'll take this as understood and those who'll be repelled, but I'm afraid I'll have to give a you-must-be-this-tall-to-enter criterion for reading this blog.

Here it is: breasts will occasionally be displayed.

My grammar-check doesn't like that warning, so here it is in the active voice: I will occasionally display exposed female breasts.

I just find them too purty to exclude.

Back in the innocent days of the early 1980s, I went to a private NYC school where actors, models, and the children of actors and models were educated. (Or schooled, at least.)

A friend of mine was the regular Saturday-night babysitter for SNL star Billy Crystal. Someone I barely knew, but saw all the time, was a soap opera actress after school. You may now know her as Kevin Bacon's wife. Another schoolmate has directed some films, including the live-action version of Madeline. Another schoolmate (in my acting class, no less) was then known as Lee, but is now known as Liev Schrieber.

There was also the 8th-grader who turned our heads. My father recently asked if he remembered that correctly, to which I replied:

She was a disturbingly, unsettlingly beautiful 8th-grader when I was a high school senior. She was undeveloped -- skinny and without curves -- but her eyes, her mouth, her poise, were enough to drive many of my peers to distraction. Her nickname among the high school boys was "Jail Bait" but they didn't mean it in the vulgar, slutty sense. It was a comment on us, not on her.

(And while we're talking about female breasts, I'll mention that this same alumna of my primary/secondary school displayed hers in The Whole Nine Yards. Based on a casual google search, she's somewhat famous for that.)

Well, one of the girls, whose name I can't remember for the life of me, showed up as a senior during my junior year. She was thin, blonde, southern. And she was recently returned from France, where she regularly shot underwear ads for fashion magazines. Of course, all us hormonally imbalanced guys would have gathered around for her stories even if she'd been recently returned from the shit-swamps of lower Elbonia, but it didn't hurt that she'd been shooting topless spreads in the City of Lights.

"I did what they call 'nude scenes' -- but I don't consider that nudity because it was art."

Um, yeah, of course, said we. Whatever. (Although I confess that I am enough of a nerd that my horny-teenaged-boy self was battling with my young-proto-intellectual-snob self, thinking, it's nudity whether or not it's art, you air-head!)

She kept this up, this distinction of hers between nudity and art. Eventually, a senior stoner sort-of interrupted her and said, "It's still nudity, but it's not pornography."

"Yes, exactly!" she said. And she continued to discuss her recent career of having her exposed breasts photographed for public consumption.

(It occurs to me that this may now count as child pornography, but no such legislation existed at the time.)

Anyway. That girl's breasts count as two of the many such I've never gotten to witness first-hand, but I'm not going to let that keep me from the occasional (tasteful, of course!) display of others' in this here blog.