B***OLOGY.

30, is the beginning,
32, is still in process,
34, is the standard,
36, is a cliché,
38, is a prayer answered,
40, must be silicone.

A, when 16,
A+, a year later.
B, is a low expectation
C, gives a hard time,
D, gets things done
And E, my dears, is a myth.

Rounded for some.
Pointed for some others.
A pair for all.

Firm when young.
Gravity-defying firm for a few.
Saggy for a lot.
Touching-knees-saggy for the most.

Pokies in the chill
Turns everything on,
Whatever the colour,
Eyes gleam in Technicolour.
Or in an unknown vigour?
For it’s never a labour,
But always an honour.
At times a favour,
A favour so major.
Don’t you wanna censor
Based on your flavour?
Or you just wanna savour?
And be a mere spectator?
Wearing Ray-Ban Aviator,
Like a museum curator
Watching out a visitor.

Valleys so close,
Or valleys so apart,
The landscape, it does
Look fantabulous pals.

Ms. Anderson makes
A living out of it.
Ms. Leone wins
Hearts with it.
They say flaunt it,
If you have it.

The big does wonders
Say advertisers,
But can beggars
Ever be choosers?

Shaky on Indian roads.
Bumpy in an Ape.
Jumpy at zero support.
Nevertheless, things are never in place.

Life sure gives some
Lemons and some, melons.
Even oranges, apples, papayas
Grapes, pears and kiwis.
However even the perfect
Will have one defect.
A lot you expect,
But they hardly have any effect.

Owner’s pride, it sure is.
Neighbour’s envy? undoubtedly.
(Quoting that epic baseline)
And every man’s obsession.

* Written strictly from a sexist point of view for the pleasure of the pervert in me. No offense ladies.