This writeup would probably be a distant cousin of "What do girls think about guys when they catch guys staring at their breasts, but the guy is actually trying to read her shirt?". However, the phenomenon I am hoping to deal with here is a far more insidious one than an attention grabbing slogan plastered over an ample bosom. I of course refer to the quite ludicrous practise of wearing a colourful brassiere beneath a white shirt.
I do not to object to this either on grounds of fashion or good taste. After all, I know that the majority of women will be wearing a bra. I will not recoil in shock when your neon green underwear comes beaming out from beneath your thin silk blouse. Old ladies will not faint when confronted with the fact that young people these days are wearing foundation garments. My complaint is against the faux-naivety that many women employ when engaging in this most peculiar of clothing clashes. Perhaps an anecdote would better illustrate my point.
SCHOOL. MID AFTERNOON.
My friend and I are talking. Beneath her tight white shirt is a bra that could be modestly described as luminous. In the event of a lighthouse crisis, she could be employed as a signal to passing cargo ships.
“My, that is an awfully nice bra you have on. Pink suits you!”
“Maybe if you stopped examining my tits, you wouldn’t know these things.”
“My dear, a blind person, living on the Indian subcontinent, underwater, could see that you have a pink bra on”.
“What? Have you been looking down my shirt? That is fucking sick!”
END SCENE
Now I don’t mean to suggest for one moment that men should use brightly coloured underwear as an excuse to ogle or indeed mentally undress their colleagues, friends or relatives. I merely wish to point out to the women of the world that it is not your breasts, but rather the four square feet of crimson-toned lycra that cling to them, which have so captured my attention.