Dear Girl in Micro Skirt Going Up the Stairs Ahead of Me,
What I have seen I cannot unsee. I can now definitively state that you are a girl. I did not really need to know this for sure.
I worry that you don’t have a mirror. Even if you don’t have a mirror, you should have been able to feel the gentle breeze wafting over your lady bits as you climbed the stairs.
Are you truly unaware of your exposure? Or is this a calculated attempt to get attention?
If it is the former, then I’d like to suggest that you examine your back view in a mirror (buy one if you don’t have one). Bend over. There you go.
If it is the latter, then I am, perhaps, the wrong audience. Perhaps you should wait for the right audience before you ascend the stairs.
Maybe you like having a saucy secret (“Oooh, I’m a rebel; I’m not wearing underpants!”). But it isn’t a secret anymore if everybody knows.
Maybe it is laundry day. In that case, I recommend making a load of delicates a priority.
Please consider the eyes of others.
Scarred for life,
Beth
Observe and report 
These people. Why do I never see them??
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Come to my building. There seems to be a sighting every day.
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Beth, I think you and I should collaborate on my “3 a.m. Story Time with Travis and the Upstairs Prostitutes” graphic novel.
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Absolutely!
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This very thing happened to me and a friend at the new alumni concert last night. It wasn’t OK.
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It couldn’t have been worse than the ’70s disco bush I saw.
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Dear Beth,
I’m terribly sorry to hear about your misfortune. However, here is my thought process on the event:
1. You live in Savannah.
2. It is nearly June, so I know it is hot and humid outside.
3. She is wearing a miniskirt.
4. She is not wearing panties.
5. There are good odds of her sweating from said heat and humidity.
6. The next person to sit in the seat she chose to use has no idea . . .
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Ewwww!
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Exactly.
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Meghan is gross. I never want to see that, I fear I may see that student again.
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Meghan has now scarred me for life. I am truly glad I live in Maine and it just isn’t that warm here in June. My biggest issue is with boys who think I need to see what type of boxers they are wearing.
I told one boy, in front of a gaggle of young ladies, in a loud and panic stricken voice “OH! Hey Dear, your pant are falling off!” He swiftly yanked them up as his cheeks turned bright red amongst the giggles of young ladies.
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Oh that Meghan. I couldn’t get that idea out of my head either. (And what you did to that kid is funny!)
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How come I never get to see this? As a typical male, I would absolutely love to see this on a regular basis, with the qualifier that she be a Gwyneth Paltrow look alike. (oh, I’m sure that will offend a few females)
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Trust me when I say you would not have wanted to see this. Gwyneth, I totally understand.
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