There’s something so darn intriguing – and at times, inviting – about a woman’s cleavage. It could be the psychology of it all. Which leaves you wondering – and at times, needing to know – what can be found just a smidgen to the left or to the right of that V-neck.
All you can think is, “Please let that fabric migrate just another half an inch, maybe two.”
It’s exciting and sexy to be sure. But to me, there’s also something comforting about the smooth skin, warm flesh and barely-there perfume. Because it’s so familiar, yet somehow always new. (Isn’t it funny how the slightest hint of her fragrance takes you right back to the first time you met?)
On the flipside, allow me to describe the cleavage I saw the other day.
It wasn’t intriguing – or at least not in a good way. There wasn’t really a bosom to speak of. Which, in itself, isn’t a problem. I think fabulous cleavage comes in all shapes and sizes. It’s just that, in this case, the skin wasn’t smooth or supple. It was tan but (not surprisingly) a bit leathery. Instead of a valley of intrigue, there appeared to be a dark, vacant concave. That should be avoided at all costs.
What’s worse, I’m sure the wardrobe choice was very, very intentional. Because almost everyone else was male. And smart. And hey, if you have an area where you shine, by all means, flaunt it. All is ask is to make sure it’s flauntable first. (And your husband’s opinion of what’s show-worthy doesn’t count.)
In hindsight, I think maybe we should have gotten a chair for cleavage. Made room for her at the table. “Hello, I’m cleavage. I’ve been with the company more than a decade. And it’s nice for you to meet me.”
It’s no secret that women use cleavage as a powerful business tool. But if that’s your objective, then it better be a good presentation. Otherwise, you might as well bring a turtleneck and a PowerPoint.
Unscripted 