The Cup Gap
Did you ever notice how the largest-breasted women on the sales staff always seem to work the petite section of the women’s clothing stores? What’s the deal there? Is it some kind of global conversion conspiracy? Let me tell you something people, it ain’t gonna work.
I was birthday shopping for my wife yesterday and I noticed two alarming traits in our retail sales staff. One is that the more packages you have, the faster people come over to see if you need any help. I call this the sugardaddy principle. The other was the aforementioned cup size coincidence, which I shall call the cup gap.
Brenda, the love of my life, happens to be somewhat flat-chested. This is a trait that I’d never noticed when we were busy falling in love with each other fourteen years ago, and quite frankly is a trait I find sexy. But living in boob-nation I am constantly bombarded with evidence that cleavage is our one true national currency. So I suppose it should come as no surprise that the boob-haves should descend upon the boob-have-nots whenever possible.
“Do you need help finding anything?”, a pair of 36Ds said to me, as I perused the 0P selections on the rack. “No thanks, just looking.”, I offered. And dispatch those things with all speed, woman, I’m busy here. The breasts skulked away, pendulously. This is life as a man married to a smallish woman, trying to live in Boob Nation.
After I had made my selections I approached the counter, and the 36Ds bounced and swayed to the counter with the speed and efficiency that said: these employees are working on commission. Of course, I had already figured that out, based entirely on the cut of the sweater she was wearing.
The next charade was predictable; the hangar/security tag disposal bin was located directly in front of me and under the counter of course, which forced my friendly assistant to bend over frequently. I can tell you this: she had a nice pair of tits, no doubt about it (I’m still a guy, after all). I paid for my items and left, smirking with the grin of a guy who had just hit the trifecta: I got some good gifts for Brenda, I got some good material for a story, and I got to see some titty.
Long story short, Brenda came home early this morning (theatre is hell), and since technically it was her birthday at the time she opened her presents. She liked a lot of them. We’ll rectify the mistakes after the show opens. Meanwhile, for the rest of today it is Brenda’s BIRTHDAY, and to her I say Happy Birthday, I love you baby.
lighting simulationist, crossfitter, former drinker.