I work with a very large, very gregarious and interesting black woman. Lets refer to her as Starkeisha from this point on. Starkeisha is about 5'8, 300 pounds with massive breasts that would easily be at her feet if not for the taut bra that forces them to chest height. Picture a Victorian-era wet nurse who has seen one too many seasons. I like Starkeisha and we get along great except for two problems.
She has terrible breath issues. I will be sitting at my cubicle doing my usual mindless business and S-Keisha will come bounding over, I say bounding more like waddling, and blow me away with the toxic mix of scents known as her breath. I am usually able to keep the smile on my face long enough to finish the conversation before I gag.
The second problem that S-Keisha has is her choice of clothing. Because of the aforementioned breast issues, she is forced to wear the same thing everyday. A black sweater-type top that helps reign her chest in, and black pants which are probably the only clothing she owns that can handle her massive planet-sized ass. Poor S-Keisha, I wish she would lose some weight and invest in some tic-tacs.
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