Me ( just back from a run, looking in mirror): “What is it about this outfit that makes weird, old men bellow out of the windows of their cars at me?”
Lobsterface (absently, sitting in front of his computer, probably blogging about werwolves): “It’s your boobs”
Me (examining my not-all-that-low-cut tank top and sports bra combo): “You can’t even see them! They’re all squished down and there’s not even any cleavage.”
Lobsterface (swiveling around and peering at me like a beetle on a pin): “Sorry, honey. You have a lot of boob.”
Caulk and Crinolines 