I’m doing a terrible job defending myself here.
Let’s talk about cleavage.
I have to be honest. I love having boobs. They’re pretty fantastic for a number of reasons. But usually I forget that other people enjoy the fact that I have boobs. Unless they’re being actively groped. Then it’s glaringly obvious.
On a regular day, however, I’m oblivious to whether or not those around me are enjoying them, and frankly I don’t care. Today was not one of those regular days. Today I had the pleasure of witnessing not one, but two people enjoy my boobs. And I’d like to think it brightened their days.
My first act of kindness (which is how I’m thinking of it) occurred at the local BevMo. I think the guy behind the counter was having a bad day, did not enjoy his job, or both. He just seemed unhappy. Whatever the cause of his obvious funk, things were about to change. Thanks to cleavage. As his eyes traveled up from where I placed my purchases before him, he took pause — a barely perceptible pause, but a pause nonetheless — on my chest.
Enter a sparkle in his eyes. This guy actually started smiling! He glanced down again briefly. I think he knew he was caught because he made a half-hearted attempt to tell me my necklace was cool. If only he knew I really didn’t care that he was looking. We chatted as he rang me up, and as I left he was still smiling. Day number one: brightened.
Less than an hour later at another store, the sales clerk was in a similar funk. With everyone in line in front of me he was just going through the motions. I step up, his eyes make the trek (including pause), and BLAM! Instant attitude adjustment. A semi-exposed chest contains a super power or something.
I can’t say either reaction was abnormal, just maybe a little unexpected. I mean, cleavage usually makes me happy, so why shouldn’t it make others happy as well? And if I’m the cause of making others happy then I’m glad to be a cog in the machine of greater good. If all it takes is a strategically buttoned shirt? I’ll take it.