Excellent question, Jugsy! I especially like the way you presented it in three declarative sentences followed by a command to agree with you. At first, I thought, “#humblebrag,” but then I realized what a tremendous burden a nice rack must be psychologically – especially with that potentially male baby in your belly, greedily ogling those monsters from the inside. Then again, it could be a girl baby, but what if she’s a lesbian? OK, this is getting really awkward – especially as I sit here imagining how your husband would react to my reckless speculation about his woman.
So, agreed. Given the last several thousand years of male objectification of the female form, it’s risky business for a man to comment on a woman’s physicality in any way. Thanks, assholes. Now I am constantly in danger of violating the sexual harassment clause in the employee handbook – mainly because I watch a lot of America’s Top Model. I mean, I get why SOME WOMEN whose names I am TOTALLY NOT GOING TO NAME get all pissy when I greet them in the hallway with, “Bitch, you look fierce,” but it sucks to have to be politically correct just because I am not gay. I may “read” metro, but that still makes me questionably straight, which makes that comment potentially sexually charged.
Personally, I never look below a woman’s eyes – not just because it’s common knowledge that they’re the windows to the soul (which is the only feature of a woman I need to be concerned with other than her mind), but because it lets her know that I am not about to dive into her cleavage and start motorboating her like a neanderthal. I don’t even have a clear sense of what exists morphologically underneath a woman’s eyes. For all I know, that bottom part could be unicorn or dolphin or Jabba the Hut. This always makes finding the clitoris a bit of a crap shoot, but something has to give, doesn’t it? I am just thankful we don’t live in a repressed society where women have to wear burkas to keep men from spontaneously showering them with ropes of uncontrolled, masturbatory jizz. You’re welcome, ladies. Our self-control is Herculean.
So Jugsy, your indignation is totes justified. I am sure if your husband knew what these creeps were saying he would go on a jihad with his scimitar. For everyone’s safety, it might be best not to tell your husband.