I was simply walking to pick up my lunch and there she was. A woman among the crowd walking towards me. I thought I saw something funny around her waistline as if her skin was exposed. As we got closer to one another, I saw it. Her breast, just one. It was not hanging out from the top of her shirt, not a little accidental nipple in a scandalous top. No this was her full breast hanging out from below her shirt, just one breast hanging by her waistline. I hope the shock did not appear on my face as I was desperately trying to decide weather or not to tell her. “Um, ma’am your breast is hanging out.” “Um, excuse me, your shirt is pulled up a little.” “Your BOOB is in clear daylight in the financial district” I mean, can you not know, would there not be an areola breeze? I mean that is a sensitive area, I would imagine one would feel an open exposure. How could this be?
She was a full woman, there was no bra to speak of, but how does this happen? How does your breast hang out from below your shirt and you neglect to notice? Was I wrong not to speak up? Was there some medical reason this had to happen? Was her nipple healing from something? Did she want her breast available to the world? She didn’t look like she was trying to be extra sexy, she was carrying papers, seemingly on her way to a meeting. Everything else seemed normal, except for the exposed breast. Perhaps others before me had spoken up. But then would the breast have been put back in its place, wherever that was.
It was the look on her face that ultimately stopped me from warning her. She looked like she had already had a rough day. An exposed breast could have been the least of her worries. Her expression suggested she already knew. I blanked, I caved, I kept walking. I could not find the right words. I almost pulled her shirt down myself. But I kept walking. I didn’t even look back, I just began to wonder what the series of events were that lead to this. I’m sure a good reason exists but I could not find it and it is probably not my business.
Normally, I’m the first to tell someone about the lipstick on their teeth, the left over parsley from lunch, the zipper, even the toilet paper on the shoe. Once I saved a woman from walking out of the ladies room with her skirt tucked into her thong. Granted, I’m not a firefighter saving lives, but these details can make or break a reputation. I would rather know, that is my philosophy, so I tell people. I even consider it a random act of kindness. Today, I failed. I failed myself, I failed my fellow pedestrian and I failed the breast.
