You have fifteen seconds to name a fictional heroine who doesn’t have an amazing rack. And your time starts … now!

[Magic blog time-lapse technology]

Couldn’t do it? Eh, don’t sweat it. Seems they’re in pretty short supply.

I am flat-chested. And when I say ‘flat chested’, I don’t mean small hillock, gala apple, or half an orange. I mean like a blackboard. Little House on the Prairie flat. As a teenager, it used to bother me a lot. All the girls around me wore bras, filled out their tops and generally had the whole womanly shape thing going on. Me? Let’s just say there wasn’t (and still isn’t) much between me and an ironing board.

These days I’m perfectly fine with my flatness but there’s no denying that, as a society, we’re pretty damn obsessed with breasts. And, as far as the media is concerned, if you’re not sporting a pair of perfectly-shaped D cups then you might as well pack up and go home. Much to my dismay, however, it seems that the big-breasted ideal has set up shop and commenced trading in a lot of romantic and erotic fiction, too. Continue reading →