There, do I have your attention now? Good. But in case you wondered if this post was about MY ginormous breasts, sorry. It's not. (Regular readers will note that the above photo is not one of me.) No, this TMI Thursday post is about how, even though I am not INTO ginormous breasts, I still notice them. (Or at least I do if they're being thrown into my face.)
Here's what happened.
I was at a meeting one day with one of my old coworkers and we were sitting at a table shuffling papers, discussing the efficiency of loading a full ream of paper into the printer every third Thursday (or some equally riveting topic). She seemed uncomfortable and kept shifting her body; twisting around the chair, heaving upward and rotating upon some strange axis before settling back down. She would not stop fidgeting.
Look, it's not MY fault that she was wearing a shirt so low-cut that her boobs swung out like wrecking balls.
So I looked!
Everytime her girls swiveled into view, the sheer size, weight and momentum yanked my eyes downward. I couldn't help glancing. I really couldn't. I tried not to notice but she kept whipping them into my line of sight. If she was trying to get me to stare, she couldn't have done a better job. But she wasn't.
Finally she outright handled them. Yep. She picked her breasts up with her hands, gently cupping the bottom, and gingerly settled them down on the table.
What would you do?
You'd notice.
I've never seen someone fuss so with their torso. But she wasn't doing it to get my attention. I thought she was either just a nervous, active person, or she'd drank 78 espressos that morning, but either way, I DID notice.
She suddenly grew shy after my last averted eye attempt. After resting them on the table, she looked at me uncomfortably, glanced down and slowly pulled her shawl forward, draping loose burlap-like fabric over her cleavage, hiding all evidence of the shapes that lurked beneath.
I thought I'd die of embarrassment. BUSTED!
She actually had to cover herself because of me.
"I don't care about your boobs!" I wanted to cry. "Stop hurling them in my face!"
Really, if she'd been swiveling her elbows about, I'd be noticing them too.
And trust me, I have ZERO sexual interest in either body part.
I now sympathize with some (SOME) guys who shift their gaze downward now and then. I'm not even INTO them and couldn't help it!
Want more embarrassing stories?
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