Kimberly B. George here’s my favorite of the letters I wrote to Rob Bell which might be of interest to you. If you are not Kim you can also read it. Please if you quote from or reference my writing give me some credit, perhaps even linking to my work here at crossegg.com.
The Breast For Rob
Friday, August 1, 2003
Is the essence of the breast erotic? Does it possess more beauty then an ankle, a shoulder, or long brown hair? Is the erotic mammary gland a human invention? Is it unfairly ascribed a higher value in the human catalogue of forbidden fruits? It certainly is not the tree of the knowledge of God and evil?
At the beach in Spain there is no mystery left. Grandma and grandpa arrive and when both remove their subway-traveling garb they reveal that neither of them have need of fancy undergarments. The young blond with generous breasts sees no need to bare her nipples but her well fitting yet modest Speedo is a thing to behold. Is she less likely to cause a man to sin then the lumpy, heavy set– you’ve got to reconsider not keeping all of your swim suit on– lady who fails to see the need to shave at all… boy those are funny colored slightly misshapen nipples you have, please won’t you next time give me a warning if your going to pull those out while your rinsing the sand off next to me at the fresh water shower at the beach.
Does the mundane everyday nipple destroy the mystery or does it merely prove that just ‘cause your culture thinks an ankle or exposed eyes is too much… or does it simply show that cultural standards are separate from the standards of the creator.
Erotic does not equal bare! Just ask the teenage boys from Michigan who were looking forward to the European beach scene until Grandma left her home, bought a jug of water and walked back home with strange waist-ward-drooping breasts-a-swinging (sung to the tune of O Holy Night (westward leading still proceeding, guided by the holy light.).
Is erotic in the viewed or the viewer? It seems they both take and bring much to the experience. If “it” was mundane would it be wrong. Girls wearing pants, to say nothing of shorts, is against the will of God. Perhaps a pure and holy women, who honors her husband, would be wise to not dare to expose her … well lets just say eyes. Although perhaps those clerics are too extreme?
That shirt shows her shape, that ballet costume is too tight, dancing causes too much bouncing. When she runs I can’t help my mind it just wants to bounce along. She exposed her shoulders I was overwhelmed by all that flesh. When I begin to draw a line around an imaginary “no show zone” I have difficulty choosing where to stop or even start. She is so flat chested, other then the enlarged nipples and negligible fatty tissue, I would not know she’s a woman. Without a top she’s nothing to paint, or lust over, just different shaped and strangely boyish, is it ok for her to wear tighter shirts, or lower cut tops because there will be no cleavage to arouse me.
The mystery and allure: does it exist because they are hidden? Ankles and knees are certainly not too much to show, it has been oft argued that they should be saved till the wedding night. Does riding a horse really potentially ruin the dainty erotic allure of that precious nether region; should not that precious region be unexposed to trauma until the night a man has bought the chance.
Is the flood of lust from within or is it a nipply dart from the foe of beauty? Modesty is a non-negotiable, but is what is immodest related to roundness and inevitable browner skin. They first appeared to me as too large fried eggs. They were not things of erotic wonder, I expected something special and magic, although they were soft, they were not the holy ground I had come to believe I was entering into. Certainly fondling and touching could lead to arousal… but I came to learn on my 4year no kissing (ok; limited kissing—definitely no making out) odyssey that without kissing, and fully clothed with no touching other then hand holding (nothing above the elbow), and hand to face touching without touching the mouth can still be an incredibly intimate and entirely erotic experience.
Should we have covered our faces, was hand holding too much, was hand massaging too much, or was it the minds behind the touch. Is hair bathed in expensive perfume and poured and rubbed on a man’s feet too much? Is erotic an inappropriate mindset or the domain of skin too close to a nipple, and how close is too close. The nipples can belong to the lumpy, the old, the shriveled, the gorgeous, the lopsided, the short, the flat, the black, the white, and the man who should wear a bra? Those nipples with their surrounding flesh does not in any way diminish my desire for my wife’s affection. I still want to be possessed by her. I still want to possess her and taste of her garden. But the garden is more then what I see. It is more then nipples and cleavage, even if she loses them to breast cancer her either clothed or naked does it for me.
Is chastity more clothing, is the nipple the key or does it live in the heart?
If I say cover it up I do not know what is covered enough. I can still see nipples if she gets cold she needs to find a better nipple suppression system—maybe two bras and a sweat shirt is good enough. Or if she just goes without a shirt I will not have lost a mystery, as much as I will have dispelled a myth… which was of our own making?
I’m sure I don’t know, and since my nipples being hairy and male apparently have no erotic value I never get to chose to hide or expose them, but I would like to know if those strange looking fried eggs are really as important as we evangelicals make them out to be.
Craig Sinclair