I recently christened Barbara's breasts "Lefty" and "Righty." Lefty was, as you know, where cancer was found not quite a year ago. Righty gave us a scare a couple of months ago. Both are fine now. (Well, they've always been fine but that's another post altogether.) Subconsciously, I came up with softball-related nicknames and in Lefty's case, a little western-flavored moniker as well. I love that these nicknames seem to fit her.
I'm not fond of public nicknames for people, as a rule. I prefer my, Barbara's and both of my children's names in their original form. But parts and inanimate objects? I love slinging appellations at those. Anthropomorphizing an object by naming it has great appeal.
I've heard women's breasts personified with foolishness and cleverness. In The Lover's Tongue, Mark Morton gives these examples of character nicknames:
- Mickey and Minnie
- Laverne and Shirley
- Lucy and Ethel
- Thelma and Louise
- Wilma and Betty
I tease one of my friends about her enhanced set by asking about the "twins," though to be accurate, I should be asking about the "quads." A lot of women call their breasts "the girls."
For a long time I referred to my annual check-up as "Getting my 'Mamms' Grammed." Which led to me just calling them my "Mamms." Since adopting this crazy state as my own, I realize that I ignore or mock certain traditions...like certain militaristic-sounding forms of gentility. Which is why the girls have been newly christened, "Yes, Ma'am" and "No, Ma'am." Left and right, respectively.