LaBlonde's Cavalcade of Humiliation

I'm walking through SoHo this afternoon on my way to the Calvin Klein underwear store- the only place that sells bras for the seriously underendowed lady. But I've finally admitted defeat: no amount of lifting, separating, or bribery will give me cleavage. Seriously, if it weren't for walking down stairs, I wouldn't even need a bra.

So if the silent acceptance that there are pre-op trannies with nicer racks than mine wasn't enough, on the way, a bicycle messenger rides by and shouts at me, "Hey miss, you dropped...your brain!" Then, he points at me and laughs as he rides away. The other people on the sidewalk were looking at me like, "what leper colony did you wander out of?"

Because I don't have enough indignity in my life.