Excuse Me, But Your Cans are Uncovered

Two months ago, I wrote about bad news as a good deed. Today it’s a variation on the same theme, except in a less cosmic kind of way.

Some acts of kindness are well meant but kind of mean. Know what I mean? It’s that old spinach-in-the-teeth conundrum. I would always want to be told there’s something green stuck where it shouldn’t be, honestly I would (are you making a mental note of this, in case you and I ever do lunch?). And yet when a friend or family member does occasionally inform me that a wayward leafy shred has sabotaged my smile, I can’t help but feel embarrassed. Almost like I wish they hadn’t said anything. As I slink off to a mirror to deal with it, I’m tabulating all the places I’ve been that day, counting the number of hours it’s been since my last meal and calculating how many people may have spotted the green speck. You do it too, don’t you?

So there I was on the city bus yesterday, ostensibly staring off into general space, yet somehow I came to notice that the bosomy young woman across the aisle from me had missed a shirt button over, well, a fairly critical part of her cleavage.

I ask you: Do you tell a total stranger that her tatas are showing?

Of course you do. The woman was toting luggage and headed for the subway, both signs that she was at the beginning of a potentially long voyage of planes, trains and automobiles. I really don’t think she would have wanted to flash every fellow traveller she happened to encounter along the way. As the bus pulled into the station and we both stood up, I discreetly caught her attention and murmured in her ear. She flashed me a sheepish grin – and that was hopefully the end of her flashing for the day.

It was also my first good deed of the day.

Now, personally I don’t think I’m at much risk of showing too much jug. So you don’t have to worry about that on my account. But do make me a promise regarding that spinach-teeth thing we were talking about earlier. It may be mean, it may be a tad humiliating, but it also makes a difference.

That’s what it’s all about, baby.