Good Man was happy even though it was just a tiny little festival because it proved there are people in our city.
Now, the parade and festival were fine (even though I didn’t see a single sign that we were honoring fallen soldiers…) but I was rather shocked at what people were wearing. We were both wearing jeans and sneakers (because we walked there). He was wearing a polo shirt and I was wearing a plain, solid colored t-shirt.
In short, we were dressed casually but we were covered. And you couldn’t see our underwear.
Yet at least a quarter of the people around us were wearing shorts showing their underwear, or tank tops showing bras. And I don’t just mean straps—I mean the entire back of their bra, the band, showing. Heaven forbid we cover up our underwear when we’re (supposed to be) honoring dead soldiers!
My principal keeps sending out emails telling people that shoes should cover most of the foot. Yet I’m one of the few women walking around not showing off my toes, my instep, and the top of my foot all at the same time. (For the record, my shoes aren’t fancy. I mostly wear flat canvas shoes at work. I used to wear heels, but since I fractured that big toe and it was so slow to heal, I’ve switched. Still, these shoes are allowed.)
Another coworker of mine constantly wears sleeveless shirts which show off her bra straps.
A student of mine recently showed up to school wearing a PIMP belt buckle, large enough to knock someone out. Why he was wearing a belt I don’t know, because he hasn’t managed to keep his boxers from showing. They only don’t show if I send him to the office to get a string belt put on.
A third-grader showed up to school wearing a HOOTERS t-shirt last week. First, why was she allowed to leave the house wearing that? Second, why did her parents even get her a child-sized HOOTERS t-shirt?
Today Good Man and I went to Bed, Bath, and Beyond to update our registry. The clerk who helped us was wearing a store apron with a lacy halter under it (I think) and one of those just-thicker-than-tissues shirts over it. The shirt sleeves fell completely off of her shoulders, so you completely see the bra straps and the halter straps.
(I am not sure if the halter was actually a halter or part of her bra or if it was supposed to be a cami. Four straps were going on, but they were the exact same shade. Perhaps the same brand.)
But it gets better. Despite wearing a shirt (falling off her shoulders) and the store smock, I could see the top half (and I do mean half) of her bra cups, and the full sides of the cups.
And bless Good Man’s mother or previous girlfriends for training him so well, because he managed to not ogle her. I can not say the same of myself. It took all of my self-control not to ask her why she wasn’t wearing an actual shirt.
Why didn’t management send her home? I don’t get it. I don’t want to see your tits when I go to buy a coffee grinder!