Saturday, March 10, 2007
Curly Hair or Big Boobs??
There's a secretary in my building with the biggest rack ever.
I mean, there's simply no other way to put it. Hindenburg-huge. Preposterously gargantuan. Incapable of being restrained by the strongest of sports bras or tightly-knit sweaters.
And everyone knows this. Her boss knows it. Her coworkers. Every that comes into the building knows "Sarah with the boobs." Christ, the vending machine that spits out our coffee and candy bars knows it.
Folks, her boobs are fucking huge.
So last Thursday, myself and Sarah and her boobs and a few other coworkers find ourselves at the local "TGIFridays" for that most gut-wrenching of office niceties, the birthday lunch. And one of the girls is showing off her new tinted contacts, and she's apparently quite happy because she'd rather men focus on her eyes than what she deemed her "beak-like nose." And Sarah chimes in that she's quite proud of her own deep blue eyes, because, and I quote, "they're the first things guys notice about me."
Not on this planet, baby. Not in this lifetime.
But it did get me thinking. Are we fooling ourselves with what we truly think are our best features? I recall a former girlfriend who had a model-quality arse [how I let that one slip away... it is still a sore subject to this day], but was convinced her impossibly curly blonde hair was what drew myself and countless other guys in.
Hell, I even fool myself. Countless hours in the gym have convinced me that my arms and chest are what keep the ladies coming. But if you ask the ladies, they'll tell you that it's really the fact that I always pick up the bar tab.