British politcians and Arkansas weddings set a man's mind awandering ...It all started a few days ago when the new (and first female) British Home Secretary Jacqui Smith addressed Parliament after the recent terror attacks in Great Britain. I happen to catch some of her while channel surfing ... actually more of her than I wanted. The camera shot was such that in spite of Ms. Smith's very serious topic, one's visual attention was pretty much centered on her very serious ... cleavage. I tried to focus on listening, but dadgumit, red-blooded American male (RBAM) that I am, my eyes kept focusing on looking!
My mental processes did continue to work, however. I did wonder if she was new on the job, if she had a fashion advisor (if not, I'll bet she does now!), and if others would also consider her appearance unprofessional and inappropriate for her position and the occasion. Evidently so. (See Daily Mail columnist Quentin Letts amusing comments on the Brit Ladies here.) I will say to Ms. Smith's credit that if you care to Google up some photos of her, she has probably never looked better than that day in Parliament. Mahhhvelous, dahhling.
A few days later Tanya and I enjoyed attending the wedding of the son of some friends, and yep ... more cleavage. Lots of young friends of the young couple and lots of strapless, backless, less-is-more summer attire was sported by many of the female attendees, and even the bridal gown was strapless. The glowing bride was not the only one seen to sneak a tug here and there to keep too much of There from showing.
All this reminded me of various levels of discomfiture I've experienced in Close Encounters of the Bosomy Kind. I had a boss once who I thought displayed a very unprofessional level of cleavage from time to time. I have a daughter or two who have sometimes showed more than Daddy would like. It seems to me that maybe the female appearance many of us RBAM's profess to enjoy in theory (movies, TV, photos) actually makes us a little uneasy when it's a little too up close and personal in real life. Takes some getting used to. Or not.
Finally, in the interest of full disclosure, I would like to confess that it is no hardship being married to a lady with spectacular cleavage she reserves for my enjoyment alone. But I mustn't say so, lest she be made to blush.
And speaking of blushing, cleavage comes in more than one form, of course. Plumber's crack, anyone?
5 comments:
I can only imagine...
UPDATE: This post was even better than I could have imagined...
My dad used to talk about the habit of ladies wearing crucifixes down between their exposed bosoms that people like Madonna popularized back in the late '80's. He referred to the phenomena as "The Cross and The Cleavage."
Holy cow. That post cracked me up. (get it, crack?)
I totally agree with you. I see a lot of it at work. Do these women know they are being unprofessional? I take special care to cover up if things seem a little breezy. What happened to dress code?? * sigh *
One of my coworkers also feels the same way. She made a joke about how she decided to wear an undershirt one day. She asked herself, "am I being lude?" and covered up the area with her hand. To this day I think about that when considering the same. I also consider the Daddy test too. Would this embarrass my Dad? Then it's a big no.
something else to ponder...toe crack. It is very popular these days with what I call "toe shoes". How do those stay on your feet? I just don't think showing toe crack looks sensible. To me it reminds me of the days when as a girl I'd walk into mom's closet, find clothing that didn't fit, and tried to make it work anyway. Only then, it was cute.
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