View from the Bottom

So today I decided to volunteer my funemployment time to helping out a friend. Said friend works for a theater company and they needed help painting and constructing the set design. I believe the theater term is "load-in."

Natcherly, my inclination was yes, I would love to paint. FYI, I do LOVE to paint. I love getting it all over my hands and jeans and even in my hair and then walking somewhere to get a sandwich covered in my paint and having people stare and whisper, "There goes an artist. Look at all that paint on her." I feel very hipster and cool and creative. Okay, so there's no whispering but who can argue with a cute girl with paint on her cheek and in her hair?

However, I was not prepared to stand under a ladder watching an overweight male staple a curtain to a large wood wall. Let me explain. When someone is standing over you or high above you, you can see under their shirt. Depending on their movements or whether they wear an undershirt (which all males SHOULD do), you can see quite a bit. Today, I saw a large gut and a rather hairy stomach. It was enough to make me eat the paint. It only lasted about five minutes though. Then this male decided to crouch on the ground and staple the curtain into the bottom of the large wood wall. And this, was not a sight I was prepared for. His jeans hung low and when he kneeled and leaned over, they fell even lower. Plumbers crack does not even begin to describe it. I dont know what humans find so attractive about the derriere but it is not a pretty sight. Not at all. And that was only morning.

As a female, I get very self conscious about whether this area is showing when I bend over, so much so, that a majority of my shirts are stretched WAAAAY out because of my propensity to continually pull them down over my jeans in every situation that involves crouching or sitting or kneeling or...well anything really. This also happened at my previous employment when my boss crawled under my desk to fix the space heater. I politely insisted that she not crawl there or at least wait until I got out of my chair and on the other side of my desk, but no, she wanted to do it right then and there. Again, I saw the San Andreas Fault and it was weird because there was no way in hell that she didnt know it was hanging out. And that even boggles my mind more. Do some people not care that others can see? Am I crippled by an overwhelming sense of modesty when it comes to the buttocks? Is that how I snag a husband? Someone help me out here.