Between the Lines

Boobs or Bums

“First, you notice the face. Then the form. But if you stay, it’s never because of either.”

Attraction starts shameless.
A glance that lingers a second too long.
But staying?
That’s where things get complicated… and a lot more interesting.”

“Let me be honest here… I’ve never been a boob person.
Yes, my reasons might sound ridiculous, but soft, squishy things don’t define me.

I need something with… substance.
Something that feels like it knows it exists.

Because what do you even do with soft things?
Hold them?
Play with them?
Eat them?

Jelly… you eat jelly, right?
But even that comes with confusion.
Do you scoop it, chase it, or just watch it wobble like it has no plans in life?

And raisins? Let’s not even go there.

So yes… I’ve made my peace with it.
I’m an ass person.

Now that… comes with vocabulary.
Words like firm.
Words that feel like they’ve hit the gym and paid their dues.

So no offence to Ms. or Mrs. Boobs…
You’ve had your spotlight.

But Ms. Butt?

She walks in like she owns the place. And honestly… she kind of does.”

I know it’s not exactly noble, walking behind a woman and pretending you’re just… headed somewhere important.
Sometimes you are.
Sometimes, it’s just good manners.

And sometimes… you get a few seconds of a view that wasn’t exactly in the plan. Call it what you want, but it does brighten the day. Because it’s not just about size, or shape, or even how everything comes together.
It’s the sway.

That effortless rhythm… unannounced, unforced, almost like it has its own soundtrack.

Put a man and a woman side by side and ask them to walk,
and something curious happens. The man walks with purpose. A destination in mind.
Point A to Point B. The woman? She turns the walk into something else entirely.
Not trying. Not performing. Just… being.

And somehow, that’s where perfection quietly lives.”

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And just like that, we’re back where we started.

Boobs or bums?

Now, in the spirit of fairness, let’s acknowledge the obvious.
Both come in pairs.
Both have their admirers.
Both have, at some point in history, been the reason a man forgot what he was saying mid-sentence.

But here’s where things… shift.

See, one pair lives life a little more at the mercy of gravity. Time passes, physics does its thing, and well… let’s just say it becomes less of a statement and more of a memory.

The other?

Still out there. Still holding meetings with confidence. Still showing up like it’s got something to prove.

Strategically placed. Perfectly designed.
And when in motion?
That gentle, unbothered sway we spoke about earlier… that’s engineering with flair.

So yes, no offence to Team Boobs.
You’ve had your moments. Your eras. Your slow-motion entries into rooms.

But for me?

The bum wins.
Not loudly. Not arrogantly.
Just… consistently.

“Boobs are like that irritating neighbour who keeps showing up.
The bum?
That’s the mistress… always dressed up, always ready, and never needing an invitation.”

“As long as we’re all aware of the grand entrances and graceful exits,
I’ll stick with the bum, thank you very much…
some things simply don’t have competition.”

“Ladies, be honest… you’ve christened the girlies up top.
They’ve got names, moods, reputations.
But the bum?
What does she get… Papita?
After everything she does? That’s just unfair.”