Double Damn

So the other day I was walking about when this chic [lady/other politically correct term] walked by. In [very very tight] white pants [hipsters?]. Like a zombie, I followed her. With my eyes. I must confess that this is a typical reaction, but this time I honestly had no choice in the matter. Stood absolutely no chance. Her butt cheeks were practically out of her pants. She might as well not have been wearing any. It was like she only had body paint on. I did try to look elsewhere. The traffic, the sky, people across the road, but as I said. I stood no chance. Transfixed. Did I mention zombie. At some point I managed to pull myself out of this state, albeit temporarily, and wonder how she managed to get out of the house, go to work and generally walk around, seemingly quite comfortable and carefree. She must be feeling my eyes on her. Mine and every single person [even gals look] who encounters her. Or is that the point. Now, I'm a rather shy guy [although some people I've told as much refuse to believe me], and even jogging around the neighbourhood in shorts makes me a little self-conscious [I just can't exercise in a tracksuit]. I guess, though, women get used to it. Guys probably start staring at some point in their teens so it becomes just one of those things. And a similar scene played itself out this past Wednesday, and Saturday. [I've been using the word damn a lot lately] Perhaps I'm turning into a dirty old man. [and the only thing new there would be the old bit]