Subjective rant in 3…2…
This one’s for those with opinions about Angelina Jolie’s boobs, especially those who don’t have ’em. Sadly, it seems even some women don’t get this. Generally, I couldn’t give less of a crap about celebrity anything, but I’ve got a soft spot for her. I respect her for the difficult decision she made. I mean, seriously…you think it was an easy decision? Step into her mind for a moment (at least as I imagine it…you might imagine it differently).
“Hey, there’s this part of me I’ve been fretting about since I was a pimple-faced kid, that society says is more important than my brains, talent, or character, that I get judged by more often than not, and that, when dealing with men, probably has a huge effect on how much money I make, and when dealing with women probably causes all kinds of catty unspoken criticisms for being either too big or not big enough or being the real cause of any success I have, like *I* didn’t have anything to do with it. Oh, and it’s surgery, so this shit is gonna hurt. And I’ll never get to see myself in the mirror again like I used to. And I might have to second-guess whether I’m more important than my boobs to a guy who could have his pick of other women.”
Other than that? It’s none of my damned business. I know this, though. If a doctor said I’ve got a significant chance of being killed by crotch cancer, and we agree on the essence of significant, that shit’s coming off. My manhood and my humanity are defined by who I am and what I show everyone, not by a bit of extra meat-baggage. Would I be scared and probably have issues forever? Sure. But I’d be alive to have those issues. As for anyone that dared to fucking question that decision? That’s the moment that person stops mattering even a little.
 Any question, even hypothetical, of my possible castration or anything approximating it merits an f-bomb in my book. If there were an even worse word to use for amplification, I’d use it.
Here’s Rosalarian‘s take on the matter.