STRANGER THAN FICTION: KEEPING ABREAST OF SCIENTIFIC DEVELOPMENTS

In my continuing attempt to keep the public informed about new inventions to better the quality of life, I've uncovered a product close to my heart, literally.

It's Accents -- the new bustline enhancers.

Maybe it's not acceptable to talk about breasts in mixed company, but why not? Half the nation has them and the other half likes them. I've watched men carry on entire conversations with breasts before, totally unaware that words were coming out of the woman's mouth, not her cleavage.

Not that anyone has tried that with me. No sir. Men respect me for my brain, not my double-A cup!

Face it, we're a nation fascinated with bosoms. Television commercials talk about 18-hour support. Magazine ads for the Wonderbra abound. "Ellen" just had a show about mammograms.

And, as much as I'd like to think I'm a deep person who cares about developing her personality instead of her chest, I'd part with a spare $3,000 for implants at the drop of a bra. Sure, you could characterize me as a full-figured woman, but some parts are a little fuller than others, if you get my drift.

Living with Angela, a former roommate, was a nightmare. Angela was well endowed, so it was impossible to attract any male attention when she was around. Every conversation went like this:

Male: Hey, Heidi, how's it going?

Me: Fine. And how --

Male: (spotting Angela and shoving past me) Well, hel-LO there!

The worst part was when we returned home after a night of her dancing every dance while I sat along the wall. Angela would unhook her generous brassiere -- David could have slain Goliath with this thing -- and heave a sigh of relief.

"These boobs are always in the way," she'd say. "I'm thinking about breast reduction surgery."

"*&%$#!" I'd reply sympathetically.

Surprisingly, she never got caught in any kitchen appliances or farm machinery and went on to marry a man who appreciated her fine character and qualities.

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! Whew! I think I hurt myself.

Anyway, I don't have to worry about competing with Angela anymore with new Accents! I saw them in one of those infomercials where several women sit around and have female bonding time.

Woman No. 1: But what happens when you hug someone? Nobody wants to worry about a new boyfriend feeling a difference.

Woman No. 2: Not a problem! New Accents heat up to your body temperature. He could paw all over you and not sense anything strange.

Woman No. 1: That's great! But what if things get, you know, intimate?

Woman No. 2: You're screwed.

Following the bonding time, several extremely flat models came out for "before-and-after" shots. In the "before" shots, they were hunched over, lifeless, depressed about the cruel blow genetics dealt them. In the "after" shots, they were happy and proud of themselves, jumping up and down to illustrate their joy (and that Accents don't fall out).

The women also mentioned how much they appreciated the attractive Accents box. "It will complement any dresser or vanity," the announcer said.

I can see it now. "Honey, what's this box here on your -- OH MY LORD!"

Well, the whole thing has me sick at my stomach. Imagine preying on women's fears about their bodies just to sell them a $150 set of silicone boobies.

Maybe I'll feel differently after mine arrive.

~Heidi Nieland is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.