Barista

Oh, Barista. As a male admittedly fascinated by breasts of all shapes and sizes (each one is like a snowflake) I go far out of my way to not look at them. I think it’s even more obvious when I’m trying NOT to look, than when I sneak a glance.

I went to the post office the other day to get a package weighed and sent with the appropriate postage, and the woman standing behind the counter had a voluptuous bust. I didn’t look right at them, but I didn’t have to because they were large enough to register on my peripheral vision. I went out of my way to maintain strong eye contact as I stepped up to the counter, and she scoffed and dramatically pulls her sweater over her tits. Which really pissed me off.

A teller at the bank did the exact same thing. And I almost lost my shit, I was so angry. Again, going above and beyond to NOT stare at these breasts that were unnecessarily on display in extremely low-cut shirts. And I’m torn, because part of me wants to yell at them that of COURSE people are going to stare if you’re showing them off like that (even though I wasn’t looking) but maybe the answer is as simple as they just don’t want ME staring at them.

 

 

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