So, I need to go shopping.
Today at work I was officially told I need to cover up. My boss seems to really want me to succeed with the company and believes I have a lot more to offer outside my sweater meat, so she’s working on making me a more respectable version me. We’re heading towards a Brave New World, and it’s gonna have a lot less cleavage in it.
I know I ought to be utterly humiliated that I had to be told to hide my shame, but I’m not wired that way. Actually, I find it hilarious. I even apologized, because she was so uncomfortable having to tell me that I am inappropriate. She didn’t even really need to get all the words out – I clued in at the vague chest gesturing, and knew the road we were about to head down. I may have even been a little giddy, but that was likely due to the relief of our conversation having nothing to do with my job and it’s continued existence in my life. I promised that I will behave (it seems I make that promise on a weekly basis), and things were fine.
She did explain that no one’s said anything to her about my out-of-control boobs, but she was bringing it up with me now before it got to an uncomfortable point of no return. None of the discomfort is on my side, but I SUPPOSE I could see how my unique style of not dressing from the nipples up might be uncomfortable to some. Maybe I should be offended and upset that I need to cover up my boobins so that people will take me seriously (not that there’s any danger in that whatsoever), but .. I didn’t make the world; I just try to live in it. Basically, I was told that people need to see my brain first and then whatever else I may be hiding up in here .. and I’m okay with that. I get away with a LOT at work, and I don’t call myself inappropriate for mere giggles – most people wouldn’t wear the things I wear to the sleaziest bar on Free Shots for Boobs night let alone to work on a daily basis. On one hand, it makes getting dressed for very easy (the same outfits do double duty as party time concert wear AND office clothing), but .. yeah. I need to buy some sweaters, and some cardigans that actually do up all the way. This’ll be interesting. Who wants to go shopping with me, with a strict guideline of not letting me be myself?
In the meantime, I have many scarves and even a couple dresses in the back of my closet I never wear because they don’t show enough cleavage.
Plus, I’ll have so much pent up boob during the week that I’ll need to spend my Saturday and Sundays topless to make up for it.
This is all very, very funny to me. Sometimes it’s great that I don’t have enough sense to take things seriously; it makes life so much more fun.
4 thoughts on “bye bye boobie”
“Sweater meat.” Win.
You could always go Enormous Swallowing Hipster Scarf route, but it’s just so not you.
Clearly, one thing can be gleaned from this post: Saturdays and Sundays are the best time to drop by your place unannounced.
FYI, very scary post title, using the singular like that. Thought for a moment that you very casually announcing breast cancer!!