A friend and I have a running joke about me being overly modest about my cleavage. She says I was raised in a convent. (Sidebar: I’ve never seen Star Wars, so I may also have been raised by wolves, and I think we can all agree that a wolf convent would be pretty badass.)
Anyway. I texted her a photo of the shirt I wore last night, and asked, “Proud of my cleavage?”
Her response: “What cleavage? I’d wear that to church. I’m proud of your attempt at cleavage.”
Me: “Goddammit.”
Whatever. Men eat up that modesty shit. My niche is “girl next door…who says ‘fuck’ a lot and won’t make you watch The Notebook.”
Smug Singleton 