While eating breakfast Saturday, a woman named Kati wanders into the dome wearing nothing but a cream coloured silk scarf draped around her pale cream-coloured neck and carrying a pink parasol. She has pink ribbons in her hair and eyes tilted up like a pixie. She is a magnificent vision and I tell her so.
She sits down with us and another woman comes in, nut-dark bare breasts atop a pair of tight blue jeans and a crazy huge deep brown fur hat making her look like an Eskimo. She makes some comment about her breasts and suddenly we’re in the breast appreciation society. I say, as I often do, how I hate this culture women have of commenting only on the one bit of themselves they don’t like and envy in others rather than focusing on their beauty.
One by one, we end up around the group, baring our breasts and highlighting what we think is sexy about each other. Priya, a stunning goddess from Iran, thinks her magnificent large breasts are ugly and mammoth. Kati thinks hers are too tiny. It’s all ridiculous. We turn to the man in our midst and give him some loving too.
We leave everyone aglow.
We dub it the Breast Appreciation Society.