This is an easy one. I’ll go out on a limb here and say pretty much, yes. Men like breasts, period. Real and fake. All men are “breast men.” They just won’t tell you they are if you don’t have them.
How do I know this? I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve witnessed the following scenario:
A woman comes in to discuss breast augmentation. She’s not asking to look like a stripper. (Though most men find absolutely nothing wrong with that, either.) Generally she’s in her late thirties/early forties, since we’re in Los Angeles she weighs about ten pounds less than the average woman her height in the United States, and exercises about twice as much. She doesn’t even like big breasts. She just feels that hers are starting to make her look old. They’ve deflated and sagged after childbearing and breastfeeding and she wants to replace the volume and regain the youthful shape. She just wants to look like she’s wearing a bra, without wearing a bra.
She’s keeping this first meeting a secret from her husband or significant other because he would “kill her” or “die” himself if he found out she was even considering breast implants. He would never understand. Even though she has to wear painful push-up bras with two inches of padding all of the time just to get back to square one, he thinks her body is perfect the way it is.
So back to this first meeting in my office. She’s wearing a wife-beater and she’s got small Allergan® silicone implant sizers tucked into the try-on bra. Finally, after about half an hour of staring wistfully from all angles at her reflection in my full-length three-way mirror, she hands back the sizers and sighs. Oh, well. She loves how they look but her husband/significant other would never be okay with this. He doesn’t believe in breast implants, like we’re talking about the Easter Bunny. That’s fine, I tell her. I absolutely understand. But we’re here if you change your mind.
Fast forward about a month and now we’re having a second meeting, with the husband/significant other in tow. Her fortieth or forty-fifth or fiftieth birthday is coming up and she’s decided she really wants to do this. Since I am so good at explaining things and making her feel comfortable, she wants me to explain it to her husband, convince him that it’s not really such a crazy idea. Especially since he’s going to fund it.
The husband turns out to be much less opinionated and controlling than the picture she’s painted of him, especially when it comes to a discussion about making her breasts artificially bigger. There she is, standing in front of the mirror again with a pair of 210 cc style 10’s under the wife-beater (my go-to implant for the “natural look”), asking for his opinion. He’s trying to appear uninterested and neutral about the whole thing, staring at my blank white wall, down at the floor, out the window at the view of the side of a brick building. Again he recites his mantra: “This is totally up to her. I don’t think she needs it. She’s beautiful, perfect the way she is.” But when he is finally forced to give an opinion, the tell-all words slip out of his mouth as he tries to keep his expression as objective as possible, “Well, if you’re going to do it, you might as well go a little bigger.”
Together they pick a size and she schedules the procedure. Her husband arrives to get her after the surgery and again he is expressionless and objective, overly focused on how to take care of her that night, when she can take what medication, what position she should be sleeping in. He averts his eyes from her tightly wrapped, newly-enhanced chest.
At the post-op visit when her new rack is unveiled for the first time, I can detect a smile flicker across his face, but he’s trying to keep it under wraps. “They look great, honey,” he says, as objectively as possible, like he’s admiring a new set of dining room chairs.
At her visit a week later she reveals to me with genuine shock in her voice: “He loves them.” And then after a month she tells me how he demands to see them every night when he comes home from work, and that their sex life has improved dramatically.
So is it possible that all of his earlier talk about “hating breast implants” and saying that you’re “perfect the way you are” is just political and safe? I mean, your husband is not stupid enough to agree with you when you say, “My breasts look deflated and old and I need implants, what do you think?” It’s like asking if a pair of jeans makes you look fat. Unless he’s a total fool and wants to sleep outside, he’s never going to tell you, “Yes, your muffin-top looks disgusting. You should change into something loose-fitting.” He does love you the way you are, and he does still find you attractive, but he doesn’t care enough about the little details to get into trouble over them.
I am absolutely not advocating that we all go out and get breast implants (although I know that my husband would be thrilled if I did.) All I’m saying is that if you really want them, and the reason you’re holding back is because you’re afraid your husband would be horrified at the mention of them, you might be pleasantly surprised. I’ve just never had a patient come back after her breast augmentation and say, “My husband is repulsed. He won’t touch me. He is demanding that I take them out.”
Food for thought! Happy Sunday!