Every once in a while a short friend of mine will wear something that doesn’t quite cover up the…well…bird’s-eye view angle. Sure, if you are looking straight on, it’s just a cute top, but as soon as you are standing to the side and looking down, BAM, boobs. I don’t think there is a single one of my short friends who I haven’t gotten a good look down her shirt. I’m not a pervert, it’s just there, in my line of sight. It’s not my fault that I have to look down when I talk to you - it’s the fault of my genetic make up and well, your genetic make up. (I’m not taking all the blame, here).
Of course, this problem is a two way street because just as I enjoy a view of your rocky mountains, you enjoy a view of my nostrils. Yes, every short girl who I have ever talked to has probably gotten a grand old view of the insides of my nose. It’s probably why I’m so paranoid of boogers that I risk looking like a coke addict during social situations just to make sure my nose is clear. Do you see me rubbing my nose like a manic over in that corner? That’s for your sake. Now, clear that cheeto out of your cleavage and we’ll call it even.