I am apologizing for this ahead of time...
My girlfriend and I just finished watching The Time Traveler's Wife, and I said, "Imagine if just Rachel McAdams' boobs traveled through time. One minute, she's a grown woman and the next minute, she has the chest of a six-year-old girl. Think about the wedding scene. She's got her wedding dress on and *poof,* her boobs time-travel away and she's left with a chest so flat, her wedding gown just hangs there. And she's screaming, 'Oh, my God, what am I going to do? Can I stuff some socks down there? Will anyone notice?' And five minutes later, they're back, covered in body paint, with two psychedelic flower designs slathered on. 'Oh, crap,' she says, 'were you at Key West Fantasy Fest/ Burning Man/ Daytona Bike Week, again?'
Of course this causes friction with her husband who can't accept his wife's condition. 'One minute, you're normal, and the next, you're like a child. How am I supposed to make love to you like that? It's sick. When am I going to find you with saggy, wrinkled, old lady tits?'
And the Time Traveler felt a chill because she'd never seen her tits show up as old and sagging. What happens to them? Will she lose them to cancer?"
And my girlfriend smiled at me with the look of pity she reserves for wounded animals or ugly babies, and did not laugh.
But you think it's funny, right? Hell, if I were a woman and wrote this, it would be hailed as a feminist critique of our breast-obsessed culture. But no, it's only me. That idiot with that stupid blog.
