I’m in line at a coffee shop when I see her. She’s wearing a short, bubblegum pink miniskirt, a tight tank top, and sneakers. Her hair is in a ponytail, and her makeup is on thick. She’s easily into her 50’s, beautiful, but just a little too old to be dressing up like a high school cheerleader.

She has commanded the attention of everyone in the coffee shop, and not in a good way. Disgusted, judgmental eyes glance in her direction. As she gives her order to the (male) barista in a sweet, “wittle-gool” voice, she leans over the counter to shove cleavage into his direct line of sight. He averts his eyes, trying to hide the look on his face like he just bit into a lemon.