Boobs are busting out all over. In the year since the Food and Drug Administration approved the use of silicone breast implants (do breasts go under Food or Drugs?), one million shiny new über-boobs have overflowed welcoming bras like rising dough foaming over bread pans, or strained provocatively against satin blouses and wet T-shirts, pert nipples on red alert. An estimated 500,000 American women have joined the approximately 4.5 million who already had chest extensions, waving good-bye to their S-class-driving nip-and-tuckers with a joyful "Thanks for the mammaries!"

To give you an idea of just how many perky new über-boobs that is: If you laid them end to end they would stretch from Clifton, New Jersey, to Columbus, Ohio!

We've got ourselves an über-boob explosion!

Actually, über-boobs can, in theory, explode. Under the right circumstances, lasers can ignite the hydrogen locked up in fresh silicone and it's boobs away! The CIA is probably picking up the intensified chatter on Al Qaeda sites: Next spring break the bastards aim to infiltrate beaches from Key West to Cancun with undercover Islamo-maniacs carrying handheld lasers. A quick zap where bikini top meets armpit and Great Satan's milk wagons go kablooey.

Freud famously asked, "What do women want?" He never got around to asking, "Why do women want boobs that feel like Porsche hubcaps?" Before I try to answer that question, a robust caveat: When handling the whole area of boobs, men—even feminist men like myself—tend to be insensitive. We hairy retro-primates assume that the self-sacrifice women endure to enlarge themselves has male pleasure as its only goal. Bigger funbags equals bigger fun, right? Not necessarily. Before we dive headlong into the Valley of Silicone, we must establish whom über-boobs are intended for.

Consider the harrowing tale of poor little Heidi Montag, who graces the insect-brained MTV series The Hills. The nightmare, the unending torment Heidi had to endure from puberty on, is just agonizing to hear about: She was "too flat." "Mean boys" would say, "If you nailed two nails in a board, they'd be bigger than you are [hahahahahahahaha!!!]." Can you imagine?

Her courage in escaping that nightmare is as inspiring as it is empowering. She risked death. "Right before I went in, I was like, What if I don't wake up?" she told US Weekly. Good question. What if? Her struggle is up there with suffragettes being beaten to a bloody pulp as they marched for the vote, or the long battle against brutal male chauvinism waged by Friedan, Steinem, and their sisters. What Heidi went through to get from A to C? MTV ought to spin it off. Call it Heidi's Hills.

She did it for herself, okay? For her own self-esteem. It had nothing to do with Spencer or the Mean Boys or that slut Lauren (who, incidentally, hasn't yet gone under the knife and boosted her acne bumps into something worth ogling).