New York Boobs

Before it went co-​ed, I tried to join the Outdoor Topless Pulp Fiction Appreciation Society and was met with a healthy dose of skepticism; «We’re a feminist group that promotes alfresco reading, not a titty bar.»
I rebutted, «Educate yourself ladies, I took Brazilian Women’s Lit for my upper level English requirement, raised $ 511 to run the Komen 5K and will burn every bra in this city if I have to!»
Maybe I’m getting too excited about Spring but dammit if these NY women haven’t been dressing like Inuits since late September. For months I could barely make out anyone’s gender thanks to all the amorphous North Face coats –
«Damn you gracile Asian guy with your smooth face and sexually ambiguous haircut!»
or
«If I see another waify hipster in vintage denim and way too fashionable for a guy smedium coat I’m going to have a freak attack.»
Ladies if you start dating a guy during the holidays, when he can only see your face and hands, he’s a keeper. I’ve had enough of getting suprised like Fergus in The Crying Game. Thankfully now it’s warm enough, and gender a little more obvious now that great New York Boobs abound –
«They rest on my arm like an eagle on a perch.»
Which reminds me, it’s un-​American to impose on another’s basic human rights, so let freedom nipple ring. I’m not qualified to tell a woman what to wear or not but at the same damn time don’t tell someone not to notice. If they’re bouncing around like a bunch of caffeinated toddlers in a bounce-​house, then maybe your mammaries are making eye-​contact with people and not the other way around.
In Florida, topless beaches are frequented by strippers, euro-​trash, fitness model types and the pervs that take creep pictures of them. In Central Park it takes all kinds. You could unexpectedly see your neighborhood barista and accidentally yell out your order, «Grande, whole milk, double-​shot, sweet, capboobccino, extra hot!»
Or your liberal librarian could call you out in front of her grad school girlfriends, «Mō you still have Sex For Dummies out? I think you’re going to set a new late fee record.» I left to join my Uncle Jeff before I got my library card pulled.
He was chatting up one of his coworkers he’d recognized which you and I both know is a bad idea. His mouth was spewing small talk while his eyes stayed focused on her chest. He followed that up by asking her to update him on the progress of some projects they’d worked on. A.W.K.W.A.R.D. This poor woman couldn’t escape his lecherous laser eyes and was unsuccessfully trying to hide her NY Giants with her hands, attempting to tuck them under her armpits and even risking heat stroke to use her sun hat for cover.
I would’ve tried to make an elegant escape but I got distracted by the first topless African-​American woman of my life and had to comment –
«You can’t possibly get a more even tan.»
«What do you want me to do. wear a shirt like the fat kid at a pool party?»
This city has some wonky laws, like why can’t I buy liquor from a store exactly when I need it between 9pm Saturday and Noon Sunday, but the right to bare chest is one the Big Apple got right. Maybe the enthusiasm will wear away with time but right now, New York has the best, shapeliest, eye-​catching curves since Miami Girl’s Butts –