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Random observations from the Farmer’s Market

I went to the local Farmer’s Market this morning.  I’m not a regular, because I don’t regularly get up before noon on Saturdays, but I go often enough to know where the folks I like doing business with have their tents.  The Farmer’s Market is held in the parking lot around 3 sides of a building that hosts a variety of events.  Today’s event was a Science Fiction convention.

First, Mennonite farmers don’t look right standing next to fully dressed and blaster-equipped Star Wars Storm Troopers.  Of course, they don’t look right standing next to pudgy middle-aged couples with matching sandals, brilliantly untanned legs, cargo shorts and NPR t-shirts, but the contrast is a bit more stark with the Storm Troopers.

Before I get to the second observation, I just want to do a little background.  Specifically, we need to establish one thing:  guys look at tits.

Yes, ladies, guys look at tits.  I don’t know whether it’s behavioral conditioning when we are infants, socialization, or genetics, but we do.  I just wanted to get that out in the open (so to speak).  And, ladies, I’m pretty sure that most of you know that.  When faced with a well-endowed woman displaying ample cleavage, “not going there” with the eyes is not really an option for most guys.  And, you know that too.  My point is that you know guys look.  Saying that low-cut necklines or carefully arranged displays of cleavage aren’t designed to be noticed is a bit disingenuous.

Think of it this way:  one doesn’t wear large diamond earrings, a diamond necklace, a diamond bracelet and a rock the size of Texas on one’s ring finger because one is making a personal artistic statement for one’s own benefit, or because they just feel so comfortable, or because one is looking for an easy way to carry one’s tangible assets to barter day at the local swap meet.  One wears those things to get noticed and the idea that one would be offended if others did notice is patently ludicrous.

Okay, I’m at the Farmer’s Market and I notice this young woman.  I’m guessing she was in her early 20’s.  She is quite attractive; pretty hair, flawless skin, nice smile, tanned.  She’s wearing shorts and a spaghetti-strap top.  She is also wearing what looks to be a C-cup padded bra.  The problem is that she is leaning over the table she is standing behind, the bra straps are loose, the bra has sort of flopped forward and she is definitely an A-cup.  Basically, she might as well be topless because everything is visible.

Now, I’m 50 years old.  I’m a guy.  I noticed.  (Well, duh…)  But, long before I reached 50, I learned that drooling and letting my tongue drag the ground when I notice something like that are bad form.

And I have a pair of mirrored sunglasses.

Just after I noticed the young lady, I noticed this kid coming toward me.  He looked to be about 16; gangly, awkward, a bit of acne, and probably a refugee from the Convention inside.  He’s walking toward me, completely oblivious to anyone and anything around him because he’s staring at, what in all likelihood are the first real, live-and-in-person, naked tits he’s ever seen.  He hasn’t mastered the not drooling thing.  And, he doesn’t have sunglasses.

He’s looking at her.  She sees him looking at her.  She realizes where he’s looking.  She looks down and realizes exactly what he’s looking at.  She stands up real quick and then shoots him one of those “how dare you” looks.  The kid gets flustered, turns red, starts to say something, then tries to extricate himself from the situation by getting the hell out of Dodge.  Unfortunately, in the process he trips over his own feet, starts stumbling, and nearly takes out a grandma-type little old lady walking with a cane.  He misses her, but it costs him any chance he might have had at recovering his balance, and he ends up on the ground.  And, like any teenage guy, the one person he looks up at to see if she noticed, is the girl, who is giving him this haughty, “serves you right” look.

God I’m glad I’ll never have to be a teenage guy ever again.

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