I’m one of those girls that wears really low cut shirts and can get away with it because I’ve got the chest of a 13 year old (although these days younger girls seem to be bigger chested – hormones in the milk people!). Anyway, this doesn’t bother me for the most part, I tend to prefer it that way in fact. I’d be more self-conscious of wearing low shirts and having cleavage that screams “throw something at me, see if you can make it in.”
Ex-boy came to meet me for lunch today (which after making a $600 flubub at work, I definitely needed.) I vented and and let my anxiety about letting my boss know what I’d done fall out of my mouth in complaint after complaint when he stopped me and said: “well look at the better side of things. you’re sportin’ some awesome cleavage in that shirt.”
I’ve been feeling bloated gross and a few pounds heavier, but back at my desk I had one arm crossed over the other to access the mouse with one hand and have that cookie accessible to my mouth with the other, I looked down and damn straight, I’ve got nice cleavage today. Awesome.