Drink to win a boob job!

Entering a nightclub competition to win a boob job? Lili Radloff thinks it's ridiculous.

A particularly cheap and nasty drink, in cahoots with a particularly cheap and nasty nightclub (neither of which I’ll mention here because I refuse to give them any extra publicity), are giving away a boob job to one “lucky lady” who’ll buy said nasty drink at said nasty nightclub.

What fresh hell is this, you ask?

I really don’t know anymore. Every time I think I’ve seen it all, I swear some new form of unholiness rears its ugly head.

Please don’t get me wrong – I am not condemning breast augmentations or reductions. Not at all. I have close friends who’ve had their boobs made bigger and close friends who’ve had their boobs made smaller and it really added to their quality of life.

Like all invasive plastic surgery, getting a boob job is a deeply personal decision that should be made with great care and only after lots of research and soul searching. That is why I am shocked by this appallingly careless, highly offensive competition.

To give you an idea of the extreme tackiness and casual sexism of this ridiculous campaign I’m going to quote some of the lines on their Facebook page:

“With your new BOOBS it will give you a chance to be beautiful”

Oh yippee. Finally Miss Flat-chested can also get “a chance to be beautiful”.

Are they being SERIOUS? Did I step into a freaking time machine?

Or how about this one: “appreciate the glances at your NEW cleavage from all the men!”

Double yippee. All women know that having our jugs ogled is exactly what we’ve been striving for all these years. And mind, not just by our loved ones or by envious A-cupped losers who didn’t win a boob job in a bar, but by “ALL THE MEN”.

Yep, that includes the creepy gynaecologist and the smarmy mechanic and your sister’s drunken father-in-law. Finally we can be objectified, harassed and sexualised by “all the men.” Hoorah.

“men can enter too so boyfriends, get drinking!”

Because what 19 year-old girl wouldn’t want her boyfriend to get shit-faced on cheap-ass liquor so he can gift her with a bigger rack?

And isn’t it just a delightful way to reinforce sexual stereotypes and really convince young women to undergo painful surgery in order to make their boyfriends happy?

I am charmed. Just charmed.

Please tell me I’m not alone in wanting to vomit quietly in my paper bin?

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