Mama's Got A New Dress
It is amazing how men will react to the slightest peek of cleavage. Even the tiniest mound of flesh is alluring as long as it is topped off with a nipple. The boys go crazy just being in the same building with a pair of boobs.
I decided that it was high time I had some summer dresses that didn't make me look like a refugee from Mrs. Roper's laundry hamper, so I ran out for the only shopping I can afford right now. I went to Rainbow for knit dresses under $20 designed for the sassy lassie. I dropped $15.00 on this rust orange spaghetti strap, empire waisted number that I found to be rather flattering. It is also low cut. Much lower than I normally go in for. I'm a pretty modest lady, you know. So it's a bit of a risk for me to be braless in this thing that shows you exactly what the middle of my chest looks like. I bought it because it looks flattering and I justified the plunge because I see other women wear these things and they seem to go through their days without shame so...
Holy shit. I've never felt more like a slab of meat and I've been drunk in front of an audience wearing fig leaves, a propellor beanie and coke bottle glasses (Yeah, white hot, I know). I don't know why, but I am so much more comfortable with men leering at my butt than at my bust. Dude, let's face it. I got me some hang ups on my rack.
I tried on this dress once I got it home (because that is what women do) while I was waiting for the groceries to be delivered. I was just about to take it off with the delivery guy rang the bell. Normally the delivery guys find MOM answering the door in her cotton pirate pajama bottoms and a t-shirt from a sporting goods store on Staten Island. Normally, the Delivery Guys don't want a thing to do with comfortable MOM. Just drop off the boxes, get a tip, grumble some thanks and move on. Today, Delivery Guy found the braless wonder trouncing around her apartment trying the "windy day in New York" skirt test.
HELLO! Pretty hot outside, isn't it? Want these in the kitchen? On the table? The name's Jonathan.
Yeah, I know it was the cleavage that made him friendly. But what made me really uncomfortable was this:
You are a gorgeous woman.
Okay. Thank you. Take the tip and get out.
It's not that the guy himself creeped me out. I've met him before (although I am sure this is the first encounter HE remembers) and he's a pretty harmless delivery guy. No. The attention was just too much. I don't know what to do with it. I'd like to be a gorgeous woman. It seems like a pretty decent gig except what do you do when somebody says that kind of thing? What's the etiquette on that? And, really, where can the conversation possibly go from there? Am I required to have conversation at that point? Or does my exquisite beauty excuse me from discussion? It's just too much pressure.
Of course, there is the possibility that he was just blinded by the glare of my lily white skin and he could be one of those crow-like personalities. Look! Shiny! Ooooohhhh!
Let's face it. I'm so stinking vain. I probably think this song is about me. I just don't have any finesse in these situations. So, long story short, if you want me to run about the city in revealing outfits show me you appreciate it with your eyes - but don't stare too long, because that's creepy. A warm smile is all that is required. If you NEED to say something, compliment the dress.
Wow, that dress looks really nice on you.
Or I'll just go back to my frumpy, comfortable, playground camoflauge.
I decided that it was high time I had some summer dresses that didn't make me look like a refugee from Mrs. Roper's laundry hamper, so I ran out for the only shopping I can afford right now. I went to Rainbow for knit dresses under $20 designed for the sassy lassie. I dropped $15.00 on this rust orange spaghetti strap, empire waisted number that I found to be rather flattering. It is also low cut. Much lower than I normally go in for. I'm a pretty modest lady, you know. So it's a bit of a risk for me to be braless in this thing that shows you exactly what the middle of my chest looks like. I bought it because it looks flattering and I justified the plunge because I see other women wear these things and they seem to go through their days without shame so...
Holy shit. I've never felt more like a slab of meat and I've been drunk in front of an audience wearing fig leaves, a propellor beanie and coke bottle glasses (Yeah, white hot, I know). I don't know why, but I am so much more comfortable with men leering at my butt than at my bust. Dude, let's face it. I got me some hang ups on my rack.
I tried on this dress once I got it home (because that is what women do) while I was waiting for the groceries to be delivered. I was just about to take it off with the delivery guy rang the bell. Normally the delivery guys find MOM answering the door in her cotton pirate pajama bottoms and a t-shirt from a sporting goods store on Staten Island. Normally, the Delivery Guys don't want a thing to do with comfortable MOM. Just drop off the boxes, get a tip, grumble some thanks and move on. Today, Delivery Guy found the braless wonder trouncing around her apartment trying the "windy day in New York" skirt test.
HELLO! Pretty hot outside, isn't it? Want these in the kitchen? On the table? The name's Jonathan.
Yeah, I know it was the cleavage that made him friendly. But what made me really uncomfortable was this:
You are a gorgeous woman.
Okay. Thank you. Take the tip and get out.
It's not that the guy himself creeped me out. I've met him before (although I am sure this is the first encounter HE remembers) and he's a pretty harmless delivery guy. No. The attention was just too much. I don't know what to do with it. I'd like to be a gorgeous woman. It seems like a pretty decent gig except what do you do when somebody says that kind of thing? What's the etiquette on that? And, really, where can the conversation possibly go from there? Am I required to have conversation at that point? Or does my exquisite beauty excuse me from discussion? It's just too much pressure.
Of course, there is the possibility that he was just blinded by the glare of my lily white skin and he could be one of those crow-like personalities. Look! Shiny! Ooooohhhh!
Let's face it. I'm so stinking vain. I probably think this song is about me. I just don't have any finesse in these situations. So, long story short, if you want me to run about the city in revealing outfits show me you appreciate it with your eyes - but don't stare too long, because that's creepy. A warm smile is all that is required. If you NEED to say something, compliment the dress.
Wow, that dress looks really nice on you.
Or I'll just go back to my frumpy, comfortable, playground camoflauge.
posted by Bree O'Connor at 9:07 PM
2 Comments:
Men have a very difficult time in these situations. Be thankful he had the tact to not nearly bite off his tongue while trying to speak, "Ah Like yer bOObies!"
wv: uwgsbun
And sometimes I've heard men wonder why women think they're simple...
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