Fuck it. I need to talk about breasts, and somehow I don’t think any of my readers are going to mind. So here goes:
Alright, let’s get this out of the way – men like breasts. And I have a particularly noticeable pair. So what? I appreciate the compliments, but I’m over them. After all, I (at least) am fully aware that I had nothing to do with them. So I ignore the stares, and I live my life.
In all honesty, my breasts annoy me most of the time – they make wearing certain clothes impossible (if I don’t want to look like a whore – which, surprisingly, I don’t). And if anything I try to play them down and joke about them with my friends. But that doesn’t mean I’m not cool with men’s reactions to them – the majority of the time. Hell, I’ve benefited from those reactions since puberty. Still, there’s a fine line between appreciating a woman’s breasts and just pissing her off. And I have a guy at work who is starting to piss me off.
(Note: It’s occurred to me that I’m starting to sound like I have HUGE breasts, and I don’t. Let’s just say they’re bigger than what most women with my build have and leave it at that. (And fuck that was uncomfortable to write.) OK, back to the point of the post.)
This whole topic actually came up a couple of weeks ago on onthevirg’s blog. He had posed the question ‘do women mind if they catch a man staring at her chest?’ I told him no, women don’t normally mind. In fact, adult women are generally so used to men glancing down at our chests (sometimes repeatedly) that we barely even notice. It’s kind of expected. Still, when glancing turns to staring – blatant staring. For prolonged periods of time. Problems can arise. And I now have a guy – a new executive at work actually – who’s been crossing the line. Staring. In a creepy way. At one particular part of me. Hint: Not my face.
Now like I said, I normally have a pretty good sense of humor about my breasts. My (platonic) friend John has a marked obsession with them, and he doesn’t feel the need to hide it. And I don’t take offense to it – I just continually remind him he’s never going to see them. Hell, I’ve even had friends of my exes who (after a few drinks) have commented. And it’s fine. I just don’t care. Good natured appreciation is fine – I’m not blind. I know how the world works.
But, I expect a little amount of respect. (Seriously, I’m talking miniscule here.) I’m an intelligent woman who generally doesn’t wear clothes that flaunt my chest (no need really), and I’m always covered up at work. So while I’m fine with the occasional glance, the outright ogling I’m getting from this new office guy is making me uncomfortable. (That’s code for pissed.) Whenever I walk by his office he actually stops what he’s doing and stares. Whenever he walks by my desk (which he shouldn’t have to do as often as he does), he stares – and almost trips. And let’s just say his eyes aren’t trained on my face. In fact I’d be surprised if he actually knew what my face looked like.
So what can I do about it? As of right now, I’m thinking nothing. Besides annoying the shit out of me, he’s technically not crossing any lines. And while my pissed off looks don’t seem to be working, I’m going to keep shooting them his way. Maybe if he raises his eyes anytime soon, he’ll notice. And until then, I’ll bitch to you guys. So thanks. I don’t actually feel any better about the situation. But thanks.