My Boobs

Ex-Boyfriend came over last night to watch the Oscars, consume an entire bottle of red wine, and ask me if I would get breast implants. (For those of you who have expressed confusion, yes, he is more accurately a Reusable-Boyfriend or a Re-Boyfriend but Ex-Boyfriend is his name and possibly his future).

"You don’t even go to the gym and you want me to get breast implants?" I asked incredulously.

Though this was probably not the best response (it is not like I would be more likely to get breast implants if Ex-Boyfriend were a gym freak), I was in something akin to a state of shock.

He laughed as if we were having an entirely pleasant conversation, not one in which we were name-calling "Flat-chested" and "Fat" where applicable.

"Maybe just one," he said. "One implant."

"Because we know how to compromise?"

He laughed happily. "Exactly" he said, reaching around me on the couch to hug me. I was ready to let this odd interlude go as a random little tease when he poked his head up and said "I would pay."

I had no words.

Soon thereafter Ex-Boyfriend passed out and I had to heave him off to my bed. (No easy feat what with the aforementioned need for gym time.)

In the morning he woke up and snuggled into me. He played with my hair and told me he loved me.

Then he made an implant reference and smiled evilly. I just stared at him, unable to fully process what was going on.

He gave me a sleepy morning kiss on the nose. "You know I'm just teasing you. You know I love your body. It's perfect." I continued to stare. "Come on, I tell you all the time that it's perfect. You're perfect. I love you."

"I have to get up," I said to the ceiling. I locked myself in the bathroom to shower.

The idea of myself actually getting breast implants is so far and above ridiculous that I must conclude one of three things:

1) Ex-Boyfriend was intentionally trying to make me feel bad

2) He is insensitive enough to have added that topic to his mental list of things it is okay to joke about

or, the third, terrifying option:

3) His ego is actually (dear lord) more inflated that originally thought and he actually believes it would be worth it for me to get surgery to conform to his vision of perfection.

Now that I have recovered from my shock (this is the man who, up until last night, has consistently professed his utter conviction in my total perfection), I must resist the urge to call and discuss the possibility of trading a penis enlargement and/or liposuction for a breast implant or two.

Instead I will be mature and call him to discuss, why, precisely, I think he behaved like a douchebag last night.

This will probably devolve into me repeatedly asking "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

And that will probably devolve into me telling him he needs a penis enlargment and/or liposuction.