BOOBS BOOBS BOOBS

It occurred to me recently there's only a very small part of a man's life where he is not thinking about boobs. This period begins shortly after he is weaned, and ceases at puberty. Outside of this short window, it's a mental titfest. Obviously they - chest pillows, that is - are not always the foremost thought, otherwise chaos would ensue. Pilots would crash planes all the time, enraptured by the memory of a particularly arresting pair of sin cushions. But scrumptious mammaries and suffocating gazongas are still always there in the background. Even in a fighter pilot's brain during a dogfight, for example, there's a small part occupied with 'I like how they wobble' or 'I wonder which one is bigger?'

This brief time free from nork tyranny needs a name. Better suggestions on a postcard, please. In the meantime, here's a Venn diagram explaining it. It considers only the first 21 years for reasons of symmetry.