Yesterday I went to Best Buy and bought Season II of Veronica Mars, just as I said I would, and watched about as much as I could stand before my eyeballs started to itch. One thing I'm fascinated by is what a big deal Kristen Bell's small tits are this season.
Not a lot was made of the topic the first season, though one of my very favorite exchanges referenced the subject: Veronica has discovered that someone has let the air out of one of her tires. New guy and love interest "boy toy Troy" (as he is referred to by Logan Echolls) squats beside her as she struggles with lug nuts and asks, "Flat?"
"Just as god made me," she replies.
And the conversation goes on from there.
But in Season II, there are plenty of references to how "not busty" Veronica is. First she's humiliated on some local access TV show because she used (without results, apparently) some breast enlargement cream. Then there are references to how she doesn't need any plastic surgery "except the obvious,"as one creepy dude puts it, the obvious being breast implants. Then some "big-tittied bitch" (a phrase I borrow from Sandra Bernhard, fyi, in case it offends you) tells her she should get a tattoo on her chest "so people will have something to look at there."
And that's only in the first two disks, with four more to go.
Oh. There's also a dream sequence (the dreamer is male) where Bell is wearing some massively padded push-bra underneath some fishnet affair of a top. I don't think I would have noticed how artificially enhanced her boobs were in that scene if I hadn't been reminded over and over that if I saw her "just as god made her," she wouldn't have needed underwire for support.
One of the projects I'm supposedly working on is a book about "embodiment," aspects of which include (for me) life-threatening illness, menstruation, anorexia, getting a tattoo, going gray while I've still got really long hair I refuse to cut (everyone so often someone tells me you're not allowed to have long hair if it's gray), and being flat chested. I'm not so flat chested that if you saw me naked you'd mistake me for a guy, but I am flat enough that even when I'm 80, I will never have to worry about my tits sagging.
At some point (a fairly late point in my life, as a matter of fact), it finally sunk in for me that there a lot of songs by men about how great big asses are ("Fat-Bottomed Girls," "Baby Got Back," "Big Ol' Butt," "Big Bottom" [admittedly, a joke song from from Spinal Tap] to name only a few), but not that many songs about the joys of big tits. (If you know of one, please share the title. Also if you know of an "I Love Big Asses" song I've neglected to mention, please let me know.) Perhaps that's because breasts are so important that they don't need any additional musical praise. Or perhaps it's because... well, actually, as I tried to consider why there might be more odes to asses than to tits I came up with some reasons that distressed me, and I don't really want to go there.
But I do have more to say on this topic, so check back later.