Not your butt crack siree!

image from phallu.me

I know there is my dress my choice, and it is for both males and females. Anyone can wear whatever they want, wherever they want, whenever they want. And who am I to tell you otherwise.

But when butt cracks in low riding pants plus underwear bend over in front of my face, I think I need to speak – and your choice ends.

In fact I have spoken up before and often. The latest time being yesterday. In a banking hall.

I’m sitting down next to your pal. He is doing things on his phone, that you need to see. So first you wedge yourself in between your pal and my bag, since there is no empty seat next to your pal. I get hit with the rough hot edge of eau de sweat layered with strong undertones of suffocating hip, representing the pinnacle of un-hygiene-ness.

I’m patient – no comment.

You are uncomfortable, of course you are – you are perched on practically nothing. And you stand. In front of me. Leaning your torso sideways to your friend, the back end of your hips at my eye level. Then you bend, and – trouser shifts, your underwear slides, and your but crack’s in my face. Less than 12 inches away.

I comment.

Kijana – you really cannot bend in front of me and force me to look at your underwear and your buts. Please move them away from my eyes.

You unbend. You look at me. Your friend looks at me. He stands up. You gesture lets go. And you go.

Thanks.

My eyes my choice? I do not know – but not your butt crack siree!

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