Fug Girls: We Miss Posh’s Lady Lumps

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At left, Beckham and friends in September 2007. By May 2009, the mountains are more like molehills (right). Photo: Getty Images

Picture Victoria "Posh Spice" Beckham. Ten bucks says your mental sketch includes the following: a crabby expression, enough bronzer to paint all of Beckham Manor, and two breast implants as distracting and disproportionate as golf balls on a toothpick. These are the three (well, technically four) key components to her outsize, indelible public image. So not only were we shocked when Vicky was rumored to have had her silicone flotation devices yanked, but, in the ensuing weeks, we've struggled to come to terms with her new streamlined silhouette. In a way, by losing those ten pounds of chemical mammary, Lady B has jettisoned something even bigger: her essential Poshness. And frankly, what we want — what we really, really want — is to have it back.

We never imagined treasuring fond memories of someone else’s man-made landscaping, but, just like a guy in a bad chick flick, we didn't know what we had until it was gone. Unlike with, say, Pamela Anderson, Victoria Beckham’s persona wasn't defined by her gazongas, but it was at least partly indebted to them. As a Spice Girl, Posh got away with merely pouting, because her prescribed trait was snootiness; as Mrs. Beckham, she was a famous man's failed-solo-artist wife with no discernible talents except zipping up her dresses. Forced to socialize with other WAGs — wives and girlfriends — who shared this non-skill-set, our girl Vicks made sure a larger-than-life image kept her above the pack. Her notorious, unholy cleavage played a vital part, because she made darn sure it was as hard to miss as the woman herself. It worked: Being Victoria Beckham became a career of its own — it takes a lot of work to find sunglasses whose lenses are larger than one's fake boobs — and she made it look fun. On Posh's list of commandments, etched into stone tablets by a press-on nail, we're pretty sure "Thou Shalt Not Be Ordinary" was at the top of the list, perhaps right under "Thou Shalt Not Smile, for Thy Face Might Look Fat."

That's why her streamlining her spice cupboard, so to speak, sits oddly with us. The lost boobs themselves don't bum us out as much as what the loss represents: that a diva who wore thigh-high boots without heels and sat on a red-velvet throne at her wedding now thinks she needs to look more like everybody else. Yes, we get that ginormous plastic knockers don't gel with her new vision of herself as a Very Respectable Designer — but on the other hand, nobody here was born yesterday, so exactly whom is this reduction supposed to fool? And sure, we understand wanting clothes to fit more sleekly on her figure, but her chest never stopped her from getting her talons on seriously pricey couture before. Actually, one could contend, her old body did those clothes a favor, because it made it impossible not to stare at them. Often with a furrowed brow, true, but that beats indifference. So, from the Beckham, Inc., standpoint, realizing those were bad implants and dumping them is almost less self-aware than leaving them in and flaunting them. Because, while detractors may claim that Victoria's faux figure and glaringly obvious taste turned fashion into trashion, let's face it: Love her or hate her, she's consistently entertaining at major events, if only owing to the massive probability she'll flash the goods in a horribly awesome way. Now, having rejected her infamously cartoonish proportions, we're afraid Posh will feel increasingly compelled to blend in to the crowd and will ditch the corsets and spangled hot pants, too. And then where will we find our bliss?

In fact, jettisoning the boobs is kind of mean, considering 2009 has been full of heartbreak already. We can’t handle mourning both Michael Jackson and Posh's trashtacular image at the same time. If excising the rack truly does yield a downward spiral wherein she rejects outlandish outfits in favor of turtlenecks and khakis, we may have to quit — or at least lie down for a really long time. Because if there's one thing we thought would warm our souls forever, it was the enduring, endearing plasticity of Posh. Here's hoping she is simply down two implants, but not out.