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Female Power Tools
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“They’re called boobs, Ed.” ~ Julia Roberts as Erin Brockovich (2000)
A few weeks ago, I was in the hot seat of my novel writing class. That means, I quietly sit and take notes as fellow writers critique my written submission. Not generally easy for a woman with an opinion on just about everything, but I managed to comply … for a little while anyway.
One of the men in the group emphatically stated, “Your cop is too feminine. He doesn’t sound like a real man.”
That in turn set the other men in the room off on a tangent about how my main male character and love interest in the book wasn’t macho enough.
Okay, I can handle that. I’m a woman (peek … boobs … check), so it makes sense that I wouldn’t get it on the first take. No offence taken, I said nothing and continued to scribble notes.
And, they continued to critique. One classmate finally pinpointed exactly what was wrong with my cop. He said, “Sarah, men don’t notice a woman’s eyelashes. That’s like … um … on the bottom of the list, like maybe on our 50th Wedding Anniversary we’d notice your eyelashes … if you’re lucky.”
Male heads bobbled in solidarity.
I could stay silent no longer and had to ask, “What do men notice, then?” (Note: I intended for my question to garner more specific information than the rhetorical “boobs” answer.)
By the looks on their faces and the ensuing silence, you would have thought I just asked for the treasure map leading me to the hidden mystery stone etched with the riddle that, when solved, will open a concealed door revealing a hidden cave lined with books crammed full of “man secrets.” (Ladies, we generally refer to this male lair a bathroom.)
Finally, the leader of this male faction started to speak. “Ummm …”
The second in command interrupted with, “Don’t give away all our secrets.”
“Ummm … let’s just put it this way. If it’s round, we notice it first.”
Yep, boobs!
Why do men think this is a big secret? It starts at birth. I haven’t met a baby boy yet that wouldn’t fall asleep when I cuddle him against my bosom. Male toddlers are drawn to these fascinating female bumps like magnets to metal. They poke, prod and point without reserve.
My daughter, more than well endowed with WMD (Weapons of Male Destruction), was playing with her two-year-old cousin one day. The little tyke crawled up onto the couch, wiggled into her lap and proceeded to rearrange the “pillows” he was going to lie on (it’s a good thing he was so cute). Once satisfied with his arrangement, he said, “Brittany, you’re cushy,” laid his head on her chest, wiggled a little more and settled in to watch their movie. My daughter looked up at me, shook her head and simply stated, “Men.”
At sixteen, she already knew the tunnel vision with which the male species operated when it came to boobs. And, now at 22, she knows they never get over it and sometimes even get worse.
The adult male marvels at the wonders of boobs as if nothing better were ever created. Some even talk directly to them completely ignoring the woman charged with safely carting them around. (When this happens to me, I love to point at my chest and say, “They can’t hear you.”)
In all fairness, some men do develop a tiny bit of self-control while others remain obvious, but none of them ever completely grows up in this department. We all know that if they could, men would sit mesmerized all day playing with a pair of boobs and never tire.
And, ladies, you know what that means …
Power!
We don’t need to enter the Forbidden City behind that etched stone to control man. All we need is a good push-up bra!
Think about it.
Women throughout history (and still today) have used their power tools to hypnotize and control the male gender (come on, guys, you make it so easy!). I bet Eve had underwire in her leaves when she asked Adam to taste the apple. Cleopatra surely had side padding in her bustier when she seduced Caesar, and we all know what Shakespeare was thinking when he wrote the death scene in Romeo and Juliette. Yes, Juliette’s youthful perkiness in that cold cave distracted Romeo just long enough to get him to drink that poison.
Some would question that with control of these two WMD’s, why we women don’t dominate the world.
Who says we don’t?
P.S. For those of you who opened this because you thought “Female Power Tools” required batteries, shame on you.
And, for those of you interested in various writing classes, Denver is lucky to be the home of the Lighthouse Writers Workshop.
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