I have taken to having a nice hot bath in the early evenings. With Mac back at work this works out rather well. I can bathe, then get dinner ready, and be yummy smelling and have dinner yummy smelling when He walks in the door. The problem I had with this is that I had to get redressed after I got out of the bath. I hated having to get back into a bra and panties, it has been annoying the heck out of me, so yesterday I took my niece shopping with me (for a critical eye) and went and bought a pair of pyjamas that are comfortable, warmish but not at all daggy. I like to look pretty, not only for Mac, but because it makes me feel good too. Anything that looked like sweat pants were out, anything that did not have at least a little support for my slightly largish breasts was not even given consideration. If it was flannelette forget it, it kept reminding me of something my grandmother would wear.

As fussy as I was, I did manage to find something, the cutest little pair of three-quarter embroidered pants and a little pink top to match. The top has a shelf bra in it, which gives just enough support to stop me from jiggling around too much and it is cut low enough to be sexy without being overly obvious. Or so I thought.

Last night, I arrived home late and realised I only had time to cook or bathe so I rang Mac and asked if He would mind pizza for dinner. He said that was fine with Him. I took my lazy bath and put my new pyjamas on. Mac rang me as He left the office and I ordered the pizza knowing that they would arrive pretty close to the same time. Then I sat on the sofa curling up with a cat and a book that I am very close to finishing. When the doorbell rang, I didn't even think, just grabbed the money and opened the door.

The pizza man stared at my tits. I mean he REALLY stared at my tits. He made me look down to see what he was staring at. Yes I had cleavage, but really, I did not think it was that big a deal. I did notice that the cool air from outside and perhaps my embarrassment was making them perform to their best. The nipples were proudly and obviously erect. It was about then that I thought it would be nice to be invisible. Heck, to the pizza man I almost was invisible. All he saw of me was my tits. He gave me the pizza and fumbled for my change then managed to address my tits a mumbled goodnight.

And I wondered, what does one do in that situation? Do you point out that they are staring? Do you cross your arms and glare at them, making it obvious that they are out of line? Or do you just grin and take it, knowing that it was at least a little your fault for putting them on such a display?

I was thinking that I need a top that shows a little less. A straight jacket might do the trick.

But then even when they are well covered, even with the most restrictive bra on and buttons right up to my chin, there are still men that think that my eyes are at nipple level. All their comments are spoken to my tits. I am never sure if I should be flattered or insulted. They are nice tits, but there is more to me then just them. I feel though, that if I bring their focal point to their conscious attention, I will be much more embarrassed than they are, so I usually just say nothing and avoid talking to them again.

Last night I heard Mac enter the house just as I put the pizza down on the table. I headed back out to the entrance to welcome Him. He finished hanging His coat in the closet and He turned and looked at me.

'Nice tits.' He said.

I sighed and told Him about the pizza man. He chuckled and slipped His hand down my top, cupping my breast and letting the nipple harden against the relative cold of His palm.

'I can't say that I blame him,' Mac said. 'They are really nice tits.'

I couldn't change the top after that.

I will just have to slip on a coat the next time I order pizza. Perhaps the pizza man will realise I have a face then.