As we were finishing, Jan asked me if she could talk to me for a minute.

I agreed, and suggested Cokes at the dining table.

When we were seated, I just looked at her, and raised my eyebrow.

She started off with the big guns: "Dan, do you think my breasts are too small?"

"Why, do you?" I asked, trying for time to think.

"I don't know. A lot of the other girls at school have bigger ones, and I wonder if I don't need some kind of shots or something."

"Jan, I'm sure you've noticed that women have all different sizes of breasts – some larger, some smaller, most in-between. You're only 14…"

"Almost 15!"

"Almost 15, and I think your breasts are just the size they need to be – for you."

"But don't you think they should be bigger?"

"Trouble, I think they fit you just fine."

That earned me a dirty look before she said, "I didn't ask if you thought they fit okay, I asked if you thought they should be bigger."

"Jan, why are you asking me this? I mean, really?"

She hesitated a bit, before answering with "I heard some of the boys at school talking, and they all wanted to go out with one girl that has really large ones. I thought if mine were bigger, they'd want to go out with me, too. I want to be pretty, like she is."

"Trouble, I think what you were hearing was just hormones talking in those guys. Do you think your mom is pretty?"

"Sure!"

"But she doesn't have a large bust, does she?"

"Well, no."

"Stop and think about it for a bit: think of all the movie actresses that are so popular. How many of them have large busts, and how many are small-to-medium sized? And think carefully about what you hear guys say about the girls with the really large breasts, and look at the women that most men choose to be their wives. It's the difference between lusting after the unusual, and loving the realistic."