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Creeper McCreepins (long)
T_T
I feel like crying after what happened to me at work today.
A bit of background on moi: I'm about 5'5", pretty curvy, meaning my cups pretty much floweth way over. Waaaaaaaay over. In a world of B and C cup bras, I clock in at a DDD (or F, depending on where you're from). At work, I dress as professionally as possible, which means keeping cleavage to a bare minimum. I still get stared at sometimes but I'm used to it. What I'm not used to is getting creeped upon in work.
This man comes in with his wife and another man, I can only assume his brother or of some similar relation. I help the wifey out, show her some good ol' wonderbras and point her in the direction of the fitting rooms so she may try on her bounty. Hubby and Creepy Dude wait, chatting amongst themselves. I'm up at the front in the register area, chillin' with my coworker. Then this fuckery takes place...
CD: Creepy Dude
BB: Moi
~~~
CD: *comes up to the register, looking like he needs some help*
BB: Hey, is everything all right? *meaning, is the woman alright in the fitting room, or do you need some help of your own*
CD: *approaches nervously, like a gazelle toward croc-infested waters* Um, yeah, um, I just wanted to ask...I have a friend, about your size...
BB: *am internally rolling my eyes; just say you have a chunky friend already and I'll point you toward the full-figure bras*
CD: Yeah, she's kinda your size...you're a D, right?
BB: Heh, hardly. I'm a triple D. *takes a moment to enjoy the look of sheer panic which crosses this creep's face; yes, I have epic boobs, and no, you don't have a chance with them*
CD: Oh wow...I m-mean...wuh-whoa! *ever so eloquently, I might add*
BB: Yeah. Anyways, if your friend is a D she might enjoy some of these bras over here which blah blah blah. *I proceed to try to sell him bras which he can take to his 'friend'*
CD: *stops me and takes my hand in his and starts shaking it* I just have to shake your hand because, eh-heh, whoa. I mean...just wow.
BB: *like a n00b, I blush and laugh nervously; curse my poor self esteem* Yeah...o-okay.
CD: I'm gonna get your number later...
BB: *thinks to self, Sure, and Batman's going to come crashing through the window to buy a brassier for Alfred*
CD wanders back to Hubby and I make a beeline back to the counter where I silently implore my coworker to just go along with whatever lies I need to make up to make this creep go away. Inside, I'm just kind of hoping he'll just disappear, or, better yet, that my security guard friend comes in to visit, like usual, and protects me. I thought everything was cool when the woman came back out with a couple bras she had liked, but noooo. God likes to watch me suffer.
CD: *wanders back over* So...triple D.
BB: Yes....
CD:...
BB:...
CD: They make you so exotic...bet you have a lot of guys chasing after you.
BB: *hardly...yet...I seize the opening* Yup. I actually have a boyfriend.
CD: *completely ignores my well-placed lie and plows ahead* You like hanging out?
BB: *ah-ha, another opening* Nope. I got like two jobs, so I'm pretty busy. And I have to take my brother to summer school...and I'm leaving for college in a week...out of state...other side of the country.
Thankfully, this seems to work and he mumbles something and wanders off, presumably to go drool at the basketball hoop sized bras which I have no doubt will feature in the premiere of an all new wet dream: They Came From Beyond Planet D.
I was pretty ruffled and more than a little annoyed. Seriously, I joke around with my good friends about my breasts and how I could nurse a small country someday, but using a girl's charms as a way to pick her up is probably one of the worst ideas on the face of the planet. I mean, how dumb do you think I am? You really believe for one moment that I think you're interested in anything other than my chest? Get real. I'm not too old and not too wise, but I'm not stupid.
I see through your plot, good sir. Your access to the bountiful plains of squishy flesh is denied.
((wouldn't have been so traumatizing if he hadn't been like...in his late thirties. I'm 20, FYI))
I feel like crying after what happened to me at work today.
A bit of background on moi: I'm about 5'5", pretty curvy, meaning my cups pretty much floweth way over. Waaaaaaaay over. In a world of B and C cup bras, I clock in at a DDD (or F, depending on where you're from). At work, I dress as professionally as possible, which means keeping cleavage to a bare minimum. I still get stared at sometimes but I'm used to it. What I'm not used to is getting creeped upon in work.
This man comes in with his wife and another man, I can only assume his brother or of some similar relation. I help the wifey out, show her some good ol' wonderbras and point her in the direction of the fitting rooms so she may try on her bounty. Hubby and Creepy Dude wait, chatting amongst themselves. I'm up at the front in the register area, chillin' with my coworker. Then this fuckery takes place...
CD: Creepy Dude
BB: Moi
~~~
CD: *comes up to the register, looking like he needs some help*
BB: Hey, is everything all right? *meaning, is the woman alright in the fitting room, or do you need some help of your own*
CD: *approaches nervously, like a gazelle toward croc-infested waters* Um, yeah, um, I just wanted to ask...I have a friend, about your size...
BB: *am internally rolling my eyes; just say you have a chunky friend already and I'll point you toward the full-figure bras*
CD: Yeah, she's kinda your size...you're a D, right?
BB: Heh, hardly. I'm a triple D. *takes a moment to enjoy the look of sheer panic which crosses this creep's face; yes, I have epic boobs, and no, you don't have a chance with them*
CD: Oh wow...I m-mean...wuh-whoa! *ever so eloquently, I might add*
BB: Yeah. Anyways, if your friend is a D she might enjoy some of these bras over here which blah blah blah. *I proceed to try to sell him bras which he can take to his 'friend'*
CD: *stops me and takes my hand in his and starts shaking it* I just have to shake your hand because, eh-heh, whoa. I mean...just wow.
BB: *like a n00b, I blush and laugh nervously; curse my poor self esteem* Yeah...o-okay.
CD: I'm gonna get your number later...
BB: *thinks to self, Sure, and Batman's going to come crashing through the window to buy a brassier for Alfred*
CD wanders back to Hubby and I make a beeline back to the counter where I silently implore my coworker to just go along with whatever lies I need to make up to make this creep go away. Inside, I'm just kind of hoping he'll just disappear, or, better yet, that my security guard friend comes in to visit, like usual, and protects me. I thought everything was cool when the woman came back out with a couple bras she had liked, but noooo. God likes to watch me suffer.
CD: *wanders back over* So...triple D.
BB: Yes....
CD:...
BB:...
CD: They make you so exotic...bet you have a lot of guys chasing after you.
BB: *hardly...yet...I seize the opening* Yup. I actually have a boyfriend.
CD: *completely ignores my well-placed lie and plows ahead* You like hanging out?
BB: *ah-ha, another opening* Nope. I got like two jobs, so I'm pretty busy. And I have to take my brother to summer school...and I'm leaving for college in a week...out of state...other side of the country.
Thankfully, this seems to work and he mumbles something and wanders off, presumably to go drool at the basketball hoop sized bras which I have no doubt will feature in the premiere of an all new wet dream: They Came From Beyond Planet D.
I was pretty ruffled and more than a little annoyed. Seriously, I joke around with my good friends about my breasts and how I could nurse a small country someday, but using a girl's charms as a way to pick her up is probably one of the worst ideas on the face of the planet. I mean, how dumb do you think I am? You really believe for one moment that I think you're interested in anything other than my chest? Get real. I'm not too old and not too wise, but I'm not stupid.
I see through your plot, good sir. Your access to the bountiful plains of squishy flesh is denied.
((wouldn't have been so traumatizing if he hadn't been like...in his late thirties. I'm 20, FYI))
very beautifully written. 
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