Wednesday, May 5, 2010
I tried not to stare, but my eyes wouldn't stop tracking back to her, specifically to the parts of her that dwelled about a foot below her chin. A co-worker came in and reached into the locker beside her and said something about how hard that step class had been. Then they started kibitzing about the gal two cubicles down from them who just wouldn't stop yelling whenever she was on the phone. What I thought of as normal just tilted slightly to the left.
Normally, I'm pretty unflappable about the personal physical habits people keep. Sure I noticed the completely tattooed lady in the string bikini at the beach last year, but I could still get back to my book. Gym gal nipple rings shocked my sense of propriety, that was clear.
I understand there must be certain recreational aspects to things like nipple rings. Yet, I gave those hardly a passing nod. Instead, all I could think about was this:
How will she ever nurse with those things?
That's when I realized that I really just have to sit myself down and admit that I am finally and unequivocally middle-aged.