Monday, October 25, 2004

The Breast of Times

Lunch hour found me today at Souplantation, the all-you-can-eat salad bar where a six-foot-three man must bend his knees, tilt his waist and maneuver his elbow into a painful, Twister-like contortion to access the cherry tomatoes and pasta salad under the spit shield. I paid for my food and was handed an empty plastic cup, which I was free to refill with Diet Coke as frequently as I wished (a dangerous and catastrophically profit-draining proposition for the restaurant, I can assure you).

After I loaded my tray with salad and soup and a few blueberry muffins, I set it down at a table near the window, grabbed my cup and marched off toward the fountain for my first Diet Coke. As I approached the fountain, I saw something one normally doesn’t expect to see at a salad bar: an exposed breast. The woman sitting at the booth directly next to the drink station was wearing a navy blue sweatsuit and the zipper on the jacket was pulled almost all the way down to her navel, completely exposing her left boobie.

As someone married to a hot wife with perfect teeth and a license to teach aerobics, I don’t often feel the need to go out looking for other peoples’ titties. But when one seeks me out, I have no choice but to look. I am, after all, a man. My gaze is magnetically drawn to bare breasts in the way a child’s is to candy and a woman’s is to a shoe sale. As such, I had no recourse but to stare at Sweatsuit Woman’s fun bags while I filled my cup and she devoured her Cajun Chicken Surprise.

As I stared, I began to feel a cool, wet, popping sensation on my hand, whereupon I noticed that my cup was overflowing and Diet Coke was oozing down my arm. I snapped myself back to reality, napkined my arm clean and walked back to my table. I began to eat and tried to read my newspaper, but let’s be honest here: who can concentrate on swing states and insurgency when there are naked tits in the room? I wondered if I had actually seen what I thought I’d seen or was there something in the clam chowder making me hallucinate? I felt I owed to myself and other patrons who might try said chowder to investigate further.

I guzzled my Diet Coke like a frat boy would chug a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, let out a moderately sized belch and returned to the fountain for a refill. Sure enough, there they were. And by the looks of things, Sweatsuit Woman was getting a little chilly. I continued to overfill my cup until a thundering voice distracted my attention.

“Hey!” the voice said. “Eyes front!”

As it turned out, the voice was coming from a rather robust and muscular man sitting across the table from Sweatsuit Woman. He had a skull and crossbones tattooed on his left deltoid and he appeared to have chosen a shirt three sizes too small so as to accentuate his steroid-assisted goonhood. He had the kind of physique that made me believe he could broken my neck with his thumb and forefinger while buttering his cornbread with his other hand.

It’s so hard to find the right thing to say when a guy confronts you for staring at his wife’s chest, so I said nothing. I merely refocused my attention on my beverage and returned to my seat, happy to have my neck still intact.

When I got back to my table, I noticed a flier advertising the specials available at Souplantaion in the coming week. And I’ll be darned if grilled chicken breasts weren’t on the top of the list.


At 2:34 PM, Blogger honestyrain said...

i'd have stared too. boobs are boobs and ya don't see 'em every day during lunch...unless you're at my house and Baby Girl is feasting. but i digress....

At 6:22 PM, Blogger honestyrain said...

aww, you, with the compliments. thanks. makes a grouchy girl feel all warm inside. especially coming from the likes of you.

At 8:19 PM, Blogger coolbeans said...

I think a simple "Congratulations" would have been a reasonable thing to say at that moment.

You're so lucky. I never see naked boobies in public. Sigh.

At 9:13 AM, Blogger JoeinVegas said...

That's the reason for a camera phone. Of course, in this situation it might right now be lodged somewhere inappropriate.

At 9:15 AM, Blogger Dave said...

Cool. It's kind of like winning a $100 at the lottery, isn't it?

The only time I've ever gotten a free glimpse was the time I was 11-years-old delivering newspapers. I was about to drop one on a porch when the screen door opened, and there she was standing in a bikini. Instead of dropping the paper to the ground, I handed it to her, and when she grabbed it and pulled it back, her elbow shoved her bikini top off her left breast, and I believe I pitched my first tent.

Ah, the good old days of adolescent wonder...


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