Busted…

I have a confession — I love women.   I love them tall.  I love them short.  I love them skinny, and I love them plump. Red heads, brunettes, blondes, short hair, long hair, curly or straight, I love them all.  They can have milky white skin or deep rich mocha, I just love them. Curves, no curves, it matters not.  A young woman, or not so young, they all fascinate me.  I do confess I just love women.

Perhaps the previous ramble is objectifying women.  Truth is I also love the company of women.  I am always amazed that such beautiful, wondrous creatures would have anything to do with the uncouth, self-centered animals that are males.  It does make the world go round, nevertheless. One thing I have figured from years of watching men watch women and listening to men talk about women, we men are pigs. Women watch men also, but they generally have the good graces to be discreet about it.

That is my preamble for what happened the other day as I was shopping in JCPenney.   I was about to enter a main aisle in the men’s department.  Two women stroll by.  They are obviously mother and daughter. The daughter was around 20, give or take a couple years.  She was dressed in sneakers and faded, torn jeans as is the rage.  She had on some non-descript top.  She was an attractive young lady with brunette hair. The mother was in her forties with frosted brunette hair.  What really got my attention was that the mother had legs that went all the way up to her derriere.  To show them off she had a fluffy mini-skirt and heels.  While I do not remember her top exactly, it matched the outfit and drew attention to that portion of the female thoracic anatomy that is so fashionable currently.  She was basically dressed to the nines and in an attention seeking/getting way.

It just so happened that I was going a few feet the same direction as the ladies.  The section of the store with a brand I was seeking was near the exit.  Being male I did what males do.  I watched the mother’s aft sections as she promenaded down the aisle towards the exit of the store.  I was also vaguely ruminating about the juxtaposition of the attire of the mother and of the daughter.

Maybe they caught a reflection in the glass, who knows,  as the ladies approached the exit the daughter turned her head nearly 180 degrees backwards to look at me.  It was not unobvious what I was doing…eyeballing her mother.  What really made it for me was the wry smile that came over her face and the slight twinkle in her eye.  I use wry in the sense of dryly humorous, often with a touch of irony.

At least the old Rev. did not plow into any rose bushes or waiters this time.

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New word for the day — Philogynist: A lover or friend of women; one who esteems woman as the higher type of humanity; – opposed to misogynist.