I work with people who are very, very attractive. They have fit, lean, small, tight little bodies and the grace and poise of...ballerinas. Yeah, the people I work with are a lot like ballerinas, but not necessarily ballerinas, though let's not rule that out entirely.
Anyway, every morning I arrive to work at the same time as one of these hot (and very, very nice) people. He is from France. And every morning, he holds the door open for me and I walk through and up the stairs.
And every morning, I am convinced that he looks at me and thinks in his head,
"Zat woman has zee widest ass I have ever seen IN. MY. LIFE. Zat ass is much, much different from zee bums of my ozherrr coworkers. Sacre bleu."
And every morning I try to climb the stairs out of sight in a hurry, unsuccessfully shielding my bum with my purse or some files- managing to only call more attention to it, awkwardly sloshing coffee all over myself until I arrive at the top of several flights sweaty and in a panic.
I know that he is not thinking that. In fact, I know that *no one* I work with or encounter on a daily basis is thinking to themselves about the remarkabilty of my backside. No one is thinking about my backside, period.
But lord love a duck, every SINGLE morning that is what crosses my mind.
1 day ago