Kalah Allen

I work at a coffee shop next to a bra shop. You two came in to get coffee after buying the most comfortable bra ever at what you said was the world’s best bra fitting. I was happy for you. I said that was just *awesome*. Then your boyfriend, or your dad, or whoever he was told me that it was such an amazing experience for bigger busted women, and then proceeded to tell me that I had small enough boobs that didn’t need to go in. At which point I—a poor little androgynous gay girl who only wears sports bras—looked down at my anthill of a bust and almost agreed with him. Almost. I mean, it IS true. I’ve never had much boob to give the world. REGARDLESS, this old man had decided that 30 seconds after we first met was the PERFECT time to tell me about my body and my boobs. Even though I found it pretty funny, I felt really gross after. Please, never, ever think it’s a good time to talk to your barista about his/her/their breast size. You might not only be acting like a yucky old man, but you’ll also be making someone who doesn’t want their boobs seen feel really weird. Eat a dick, ya dick.—Anonymous