50% of the adult population has them. Well, 100% really, but no one wants to think about man breasts, just lady ones. The ideas that they are naturally and utterly common and that I am a heterosexual female combine to confuse me to the great appeal of the mam. What’s the big deal? They’re all over the place! Everywhere you look, there’s women, and they all have BREASTS. Some are bigger than others, some jiggle more than others, and some are made of plastic. Some have cleavage, some have little, and some have…well…um…err…uh…a life of their own.

I seem to be in the minority of people who Don’t Think About Boobs All That Much. Boobs are important to many people. Men ogle them and want to honk them, and women fuss over them tremendously. They worry that their hoots are not awesome enough which decreases their overall attractiveness, or that they are far too awesome and no man listens to anything they say because they are staring. Nips too big, nips too small, sag, stretch marks, unevenness…not having the perfect rack is a bummer for a lot of ladies. But if you have boobs you have to deal with them, so you might as well make the most of it all. Outside of surgery (which can make things worse sometimes; see Half Of Hollywood and All Of Porn) or years of therapy, here’s a few things you can to do optimize your funbags.

1. Take good care of yourself. Drinking, smoking, rapid weight gains/losses, too much sun all add up to premature skin damage and collagen/elasticity loss. Breasts are covered with skin. Thank you.

2. Do a proper monthly breast self-exam (and yearly mammogram if advised). You may not have much of a say if you get breast cancer or not, but you are the person most likely and able to catch it early, which may very well increase your chances of keeping your nice breasts and more importantly, keeping your life, which is attached to your breasts.

3. Wear the right bra. The right bra for you changes over time, you know. You have to actually put some thought and effort into picking one. It’s best if you go for a proper fitting from a Certified Not-Too-Creepy Bra Lady at a good department store, but if you aren’t up for that, there are things you can remember. Here’s some tips from a British TV show called “How To Look Good Naked.” The Brits are a bit wacky.

I would add that underwire should fit flat and close to the body and should NOT poke you cruelly, you should be filling out the top of the bra without falling out of it, and that you need a bigger size if the fat rolls created by your bra’s tension completely cover the strap. You want to avoid the dreaded “back boobs” at all costs. Don’t get hung up on what size you think you should be; get the size that you actually ARE. If you can spend several years looking for the right jeans, spend an hour looking for the right bra. Your clothes will look much nicer over a well-fitted bra, and you won’t be so crabby because your bra is torturing you. David Beckham wouldn’t stuff his package into a youth-size jock strap; don’t you bother with 34B if you are a 38C. Also, even if you are small, wear a damn bra, otherwise it’s just Too Much Information for the rest of us. What if David Beckham didn’t wear anything at all? Hmm? HMMMMMMMM.

4. Have a nice gay man follow you around all the time and tell you that you are fabulous.

5. Accept that life on earth includes the effects of time and gravity and someday your perk shall shirk. Que sera sera; just think of it as science in action. And get a decent bra. Aretha…move to the head of the line. PLEASE. GOD. PLEASE.

My first bra, which I had to beg my mother to take me to buy, was a little nothing stretchy red and white number, and after that I think I moved up to a white Playtex “Almost A” bra and then moved up to “Almost B” for my teen years. I felt kind of bad for the girls at school who developed early and/or hugely. They never heard the end of it from the rest of the kids. There were usually three outcomes: shame and giant sweatshirts; joining in with the jokes, or; Town Slut. I wonder if the Town Slut is currently wearing a properly-fitted bra now.

I’ve had many bras and been many sizes over the years. But whatever they were, they were good enough for me, served their purpose(s), and have also provided me with some embarrassing and humorous stories at times (most related to the breastfeeding “Cow Years” or the Major Bra Malfunction In A Public Venue). I don’t go ah-OOOO-gah over breasts, but they’ve been good pals to me. So, here’s to boobs and the good care of such, and those who go ah-OOOO-gah over them. You can’t argue with a little global warming.