Oh No, Boobies!
Over the weekend, I ran a bunch of errands with my mom, including a trip to the local petstore where we got Beaky years ago. (Wanted to get a couple new toys before we go out of town for a wedding in couple weeks.) Mom and I both found some nice, well-made local toys that we knew our parrots would love, and got a chance to flirt with some cute conures, a Senegal, a beautiful Amazon and a baby African grey.
When I was checking out, the cashier noticed the swat bunnies shirt I was wearing. She asked if it was rabbits on my shirt, but then seemed terribly flustered. I didn’t think much of her discomfiture, and explained the idea behind the shirt, which I found charming. As we were driving away, my mom pointed out the reason the clerk was so nervous was that in order to notice the large bunny on the front, she had had to *gasp* look at my left breast. And you shouldn’t look at breasts, that’s bad and dirty and besides, she shouldn’t notice boobs because she isn’t gay or anything. [Yes, I’m guessing, but given the area that this store is in, all the employees are likely to be good conservative Mormons.] It hadn’t even occurred to me that this was an issue, because well, they’re boobs, half the population has them, including the nervous clerk. Why should we be ashamed about our bodies? It’s not as if I was walking around topless or anything, I simply happen to have sizable breasts. And if she had noticed because she’s gay, why would it matter?
In short, prudish people are weird.