Random question before the main event: Has anyone else heard the phrase "Neither Martha nor Arthur"? Apparently it's said by the British all the time. A gorgeous but gay expat friend of mine used it to describe me last weekend. I'd be offended but I'm kind of in that in between phase still and also the way he said it all English-like made me laugh (and my toes curl, but that' s another story). Oh, fine. I have a thing for accents. Sue me.
So boobs. Mine are new and of the teeny tiny titty committee variety. It's no big (literally) because I'm so purty everywhere else (that's a lie). This is where I admit to being stupid. Once again, I gave no thought to how these things would affect my day to day. As someone who never paid much attention to breasts (except in passing envy) I fell under the delusion that the majority of people don't obsess over them anymore. Take a moment to laugh at how unbelievably retarded I am, I'll wait. All done? Awesome. Moving on.
Allow me to make it perfectly clear that I have got zero game. I don't walk out the door preparing to wow the world. I'm a wallflower and a borderline hermit. I don't like attention. I like to disappear in the crowd, do what I have to do, and go back home to cry in my cornflakes. It's not glamorous but it's how I roll. Even before the girl on the in started becoming the woman on the out I was like that. From this you should read that I don't go through great effort to put my girls out there. Half the time they don't even find their way into a bra. If they wanted to live in one of those so badly they'd grow already, but I digress.
Shortly before the "guys are hot" revelation I went on a date (shocking, I know) with this bisexual woman I met through (barf) an online dating site. It's cute and semi important to keep in mind that I've never gone out on a date presenting as female before so it was, for me at least, kind of a big deal. Rather than give a blow by blow (har har) I want to focus on the topic at hand. Relevant info: I am wearing an orange cami, denim mini, and ballet flats. Nothing special but, hey, I'm a less is more girl.
As we sat to dinner I slowly became aware that my date kept glancing down at my chest. Being the stupid ass that I am, I thought nothing of it at first. I mean she's a girl, her boobs are bigger than mine (whose aren't?) so she can't possibly be checking out the goods, right? Wrong. Oh, so wrong. Maybe I am just hyper aware but she was doing it constantly. Like every other minute. Even as we were walking to the subway she would occasionally sneak the proverbial peek.
I realize I am going to have to get used to this but, damn, did I find that annoying. I was so sure that these mosquito bites of mine would be attracting attention to the sum of zero. They're just boobs, intensely small and barely noticeable ones at that. What gives? Shouldn't another woman know better? How much worse will a man be in this situation and how am I going to find the restraint to not kick him square in the baby maker?
Le sigh... like everything else lately, I'm more bemused than anything. I'm a piece of meat to be oogled. Who knew?
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2 comments:
Boobs... It's a weird thing. I wanted so bad to get them, but at the time, wasn't aware of all the seeming commotion they'd attract. If it's any consolation, I think it's just cultural. The sneak peeking, I mean. I still catch guys I've worked with for 4 years now glancing at 'em during meetings. But a woman? Not so much, and yeah, I would think she'd show a bit more... restraint - bra or not.
Yes, people stare at boobs. You know, those lumps of fat with nipples. I can't help it, the genes made me do it. Riftgirl says "restraint"? Huh? Oh yeah, she's a woman. Women say things like that. If men had restraint...and manners...and cleaned up after ourselves, well, we wouldn't be men. We're clods, but sometimes we're yummy clods, lol.
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