Most women know about the men who casually “check them out” on the street. They honk at you when you’re walking; they try to look under your blouse when they sit next to you on a bus; they stare at you from across the street; and they ask you for the time when they’re wearing a watch themselves. Some of their moves are subtle, but they’re almost all very silly. By the way, one of my least favourite is from a parking enforcement officer on Church Street. Once he has spotted me, he would drive by, wave at me, blow a kiss, drive off around the block, and then drive by again and again. (He has done that on more than 3 occasions now.) Last week I waited at the streetcar stop at Church & Carlton for 20 minutes and he drove around 5 times.
I can never tell why men check me out. Do they just want me to turn around because they thought I was a pretty girl (the genetic kind), or do they just enjoy the thrill of checking out a t-girl? Of course I hope it’s the former, but I assume the truth is somewhere in between. What I haven’t figured out is whether women do the same. By that I don’t mean women checking out men, but rather, a straight woman checking out another straight woman. (If there are any genetic women out there reading this, do tell.) But I found a partial answer the other night.
Back on Sunday night I had the chance to go out for a walk, wearing my new black dress. At $40 CAD, it’s the most expensive clothing item I’ve bought all year. Anyway, since it was the Labour Day long weekend, there were still plenty of people outside at 11:30pm. I felt a bit naughty, so I went without wearing a bra. (I have invested some money on a fine pair of breastform from Amoena which allows me to go bra-less. Now I understand why women wear bras, and why sometimes they don’t.)
On Bloor Street, a young (and beautiful, and well-dressed) woman heading towards me started staring at my chest from a distance away, and didn’t take her eyes off until I walked past her. Wow. I’m not sure if this is the first time a woman has checked me out, but it’s definitely the first time I’ve noticed.
I hope she didn’t look at me because of inconspicuously bouncy (fake) boobs. But I admit that I like the feeling when she looked at me. A lot.
PS: By the way, I took that picture that very night, just so that everyone can see for themselves. Unfortunately it didn’t show off a lot of my boobs. Another funny thing: not a single man checked me out that night…
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