Sideboob comes into play when a fashionable upper-class woman wants you to lust after her breasts, but can still live with herself in polite society. Sideboob, which is a peek-a-boo look at the side of either one or both breasts, aesthetically enhances any situation in which it appears. In fact, in our virtual/material/antropological world, good Sideboob is usually so attention-grabbing that all of the other objects of attraction in the vicinity can only brood silently, start the toe tapping thing, get into the arms crossed pose, and then storm out. That is the power of Sideboob.
History of Sideboob
A cave girl started this. Cave girls walked around naked, and cave guys and lesbian cave girls enjoyed looking at the bare breasts. But they were always there, skyclad, enjoying the air and the sun and the bird droppings that the almighty cave god would send them daily. Everyone liked them, and would play and caress them when the mood was upon them, but nobody made much of a fuss about them for about five million years or so.
Then one day, all of a sudden, one of the cave girls walked out of her cave with her breasts covered by otter fur. Everybody stopped what they were doing and stared as the cave damsel strolled back and forth between the fire and the place-where-we-keep-sharp-sticks. A couple of cave guy's expressions changed just a little as they began to wonder what her nipples looked like, and cave Lolita noticed this but pretended that she didn't.
It was soon after this that the cave babe began to add other body decorations around her otter skin. She'd go down to the river and pick up some of the shiny rocks, tie them together with plant twine and tree sap, and hang them around her neck. She'd string animal teeth together, fasten them around her wrist, and show them off like she was Queen of the May. Flower rubbings on her cheeks and around her eyes, blossom arrangements placed seductively in her long red hair, and a tongue piercing soon followed, and cave temptress stood alone among the unadorned. And her much-talked about, drummed about, and cave-drawn about otter skin, tied tenderly around her neck and hanging loosely on the bottom, provided plenty of Sideboob for the eager spectators.
The other women in the tribe, of course, mimicked cave ginger within the week. Competing among themselves to see who could find and crush the most vibrant flower petals for colour and scent, who could pick up the shiniest and most sought-after rocks to string together with plant twine and tree sap, and who could find the best use for their tongue piercing (which pleased the cave men no end), cave goddess' tribe took on an air of excitement and change. Visitors from other tribes were drawn into this enthusiasm for the newly created frenzy that was "fashion", and brought these radical practices and ideas home with them. From then on the memes concerning adorned women grew, and continued unabated, throughout the rest of history.
And for the first few hundred thousand years of that, they all wore otter skin on their Sideboob.
The Great Sideboob debate
The debate is as such: Does a bathing suit exposing Sideboob actually qualify as Sideboob? Or is it just a dime-a-dozen girl in a swimsuit bra. And what about underwear itself? Sideboob or commonplace jug support?
Many of the best minds have debated this question. We will give but one example of this ongoing discussion among the elite, that of a contested forum endured by the public on the 11th of last month at Oxford University's bi-annual Zack Wheat Club Luncheon. The competitors were the highbrow stickinhisarse conservacorpse Mr. William F. Buckley, late of New York, himself a noted Sideboob afficianado, and a chapstick lesbian chosen for her penchant to wear Sideboob to her public appearances. We pick up the debate soon after the introductions.
"I likewise contend," says Buckley, "that Sideboob protuding from the confines of a shantytown women's bathing suit, or her bra as it may, certainly affects my libido to the same degree as its protrusion from the peeky-holes of the more formal attire of the privileged elite. Both elicit a similar series of primitive African-origin chemical responses within my brain. For this obviously predetermined degree of aligned hormonal activities to coincide thusly, I would surmise that there seems to be no real difference in relationship to their presentation. But I admit that my refined sensitivities, which abide as liquid and cellular material imbued with electronic activity in comparatively recent and evolutionary advanced structuring of my brain's anatomy, do somewhat prefer well-fashioned evening-wear with sidecut viewing portals."
"Bullshit!," says Eliza, president of the Lesbo Sideboob Society, "I call Bullshit on Buckley. When a hot chick dresses to the nines in her two-thousand dollar designer-gown and shows Sideboob, my cup runneth over. You want proof, put your hand over here. See? Was I lying? William F. Buckley can talk out of both sides of his dead mouth all day long and he won't convince me that swimsuit Sideboob has the class, grace, and lickability that you get when you cozy up to designer sidegap."
"Nay, thou say, my words do not sway," said Buckley, countering and chuckling, speaking slowly as if dead, "But Ms. Liza, hearing your vapid argument, full of palaver, qua quiescent qua an inchoate jejune fait accompli, may it perchance be that you have not gazed upon this video, which depicts the action of the before-mentioned shantytown lass prancing along a sandbar of, if my eyes do not deceive me, the northern coast of the Mediterranean Sea as it were, in the full glare of our local star, the sun?"
"Buckley, grow up," Eliza said, acidtonguing the eloquent erudite spectre, "boobs are boobs, I see them in my sleep they're so common. You like them shaking, you boring pervert, then stake out an Earthquake zone. But for me, Sideboob can only be defined as being showcased in expensive drapery, case closed, apparition be gone."
As it were.
The Future of Sideboob
Fashion designers and fashion psychics predict that Sideboob is here to stay (although the psychics "see" its demise, usually referencing an ancient statement carved into the base of an Aztec sundial and/or bird sculpture), and that it will become the fashion trend of the near future. Most women disapprove, as they must, to seem chaste to their peers. They mildly protest, for show, and turn the conversation to more genial topics. Yet most upper-crust women secretly await the inevitable revival of this ancient plummage by the grands couturiers and, glancing at their Sideboob in gilded mirrors, they smile and inwardly reminisce of the impassioned fervor evident in the Art a la Rue period of yore, when all was well and Sideboob plentiful, seductively displayed, and in medias res.
As it were.