Exhibit A: Locker room conspicuously lacking a inquisitive child.
At the pool tonight when I was changing from my swim, I was distracted because I had forgotten my flip-flops and was trying to minimize my contact with the floor. I’m paranoid that I’ll get plantar’s warts. (This is well-founded paranoia, based on my childhood as a swimmer, for the record.)
While I was putting myself through the paces, I noticed a little girl standing near me who was probably about six years old. Her mom had her hands full trying to get her younger sister stripped down, so this girl stood there, eating a banana in her bathing suit, talking to anyone within ear-shot, and staring at my boobs.
I was the only person she didn’t engage in conversation, so I’m thinking my breasts intimidated her. It’s to be expected.
