B3: I got my hairs cut

I don't see summer fading anytime soon, so I opted for an off-the-neck coif. I also opted to wear a summer dress today. The fact is that my beautiful hooters stay cooped up all week. Libraries don't deal in nipples, they deal in books. We are there to inform, not arouse. So, when I am not in the library sometimes I choose to practice my right as an American to wear anything I damn well please. On occasion, that means I choose a low-cut dress. Today was one of those occasions. Unfortunately, I had an encounter with another free American that did not agree with my clothing choice. There I was, standing in line waiting to pay for my new red skinny jeans (so awesome) and black t-shirt, my new hair cut shining and my breasts sitting calmly on my chest and minding their own business. I was noticing the detail stitching on the pocket of the soon-to-be-mine jeans when I felt someone looking at me. I looked up and there she was staring at my tatas. Her eyes then traveled from my funbags to my face, making it possible for me to now see the full extent of her frown. Then, in the most blatant display of disapproval by a stranger I have ever experienced, she SIIIIIIIIGGGGGGHHHHED, tsk tsk'd, and turned around while shaking her head. At first, I was a little confused. I glanced down to make sure I hadn't inadvertently stuck a dead baby between them but saw that they were just as I had left them, unadorned but sitting pretty. I don't know what that woman's problem was, except that perhaps she was bothered that I expressed my freedoms in a beautiful summery dress and shiny hair while she expressed hers in flannel clogs and disapproving sighs.