Post Traumatic Stress or, Boobies.

   I need therapy. I might have post traumatic stress. I saw something today... and I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop seeing it in my mind. It will haunt me forever and I just need to tell someone:

    A woman walked by me at work today with her phone stuck in her cleavage. Now I know this is not abnormal. My cellphone and ID- among other things -have been known to inhabit my bra now and again at shows or while out dancing, but this woman's bra was in no way involved. Her shirt was so low-cut she had simply stuck her iPhone between the girls about halfway down the crease so it stuck there in plain view for everyone to see.

   It's hard to describe it in a way the conveys exactly how disturbing the sight was. Thank goodness for the internet.

 Exhibit A:

Is this a thing now?

Also, isn't this arbitrary? Who thought the phone was needed to get men to look at those things?

  Okay now instead of a hot Asian girl, imagine this with a 250 pound, 40 year old white lady. 

   It hurt my eyes and offended my soul.

   Mam: you are not a kangaroo*. You do not have a biological fanny-pack. If God had intended that astoundingly vast crevasse to be used as a skin-pocket, he would have given everyone one and went ahead and made them big enough to fit a baby in.

          *We are vastly inferior to kangaroos.

  Perhaps even more disturbing were surrounding bystanders reactions to this event. While I was left sobbing in a corner and scratching at my eyes, no one else even looked twice. When I described to a co-worker what I had seen he simply shrugged and said, "So what? Girls do that all the time." 

  I was not aware of this, and am therefore hesitant to believe it. I'm still not convinced he, or you all for that matter, still understand exactly what I saw, so once again I have provided a brief sketch: 

Notice how the object in question is nowhere near a bra.

P.S. please forgive the quality of this sketch- imagine it's "impressionistic".

   Please tell me you are as traumatized by this as I am.

     Anyway, being the kind and caring soul that I am, I have scoured the internet and discovered the solution to what has apparently become a problem.

    In the event that you find yourself purse-less, pocket-less, and weird-friend-with-a-fanny-pack-who-will-carry-your-crap-less, and need more space than a normal persons bra can provide, I present to you: The Cleavage Caddy.

    That's right, this is a thing.*

At this point I realize this post is decidedly female-oriented, which oddly enough is not usually the way I go- girl stuff makes me awkward. I apologize and promise to not talk about bras and/or boobs for the rest of the month.

           *A thing that I imagine would leave dents in your boobs if you actually stuffed lip-gloss in there.