The Woman With A Trolley For Her Tits

You see a lot of strange things in Soho.

In my usual smoking spot in Ramillies Place around the corner from work the traffic is always fascinating. In this one small street we have a beauty school, a gay gym and a casting agency.

The beauty school – girls in little white jackets and grey trousers walking around talking about hair and make-up, most of them clearly thinking going to beauty school makes you beautiful. Notable for the day one of the girls decided not to wear trousers, just the white jacket which stretches just past the waist, and bare legs. As she walked past me it became clear she was wearing no underwear, and had clearly dropped out of the intimate waxing module on her course.

The gay gym – notable for the frequency that we see ambulances pulling up outside. What ARE they doing in there? And why is it called Sweat Box? The staff walk around in red t-shirts (I’ve seen them outside) which say HOMOSUPERIOR. Nothing like ramming it down people’s throats … which incidentally is the tagline for the gym.

The casting agency – for a tiny street Ramillies is extremely confusing, with the exception of the neon-lit gay gym it’s very hard to tell what any of the buildings are. So when you get a girl with legs like skyscrapers walking up to you with a curious look on her face, chances are she’s looking for the casting place. You find yourself judging people. A girl will come up caked in make-up, showing off as much flesh as possible to distract from a manly, assymetrical face and a lazy eye; when she asks for directions you want to say “oh honey, really, if I tell you where the casting agency is I’ll feel partly responsible for your disappointment”. CSI (yes that’s what it’s called) is most notable for the day I noticed a girl outside wearing a ZOO magazine-branded t-shirt and a pair of bikini bottoms, only to see her remove the t-shirt and spend 20 minutes getting her photo taken in the skimpiest bikini I have ever seen. A LOT of boys came out and had several cigarettes that afternoon.

Today was one of the strangest sights.

I was having a smokey with my friend Matt and we saw a woman hobble past down the middle of the road, about 60-65, very short, but quite hefty and hunched over one of those little tartan-patterned trolleys old women use for their shopping.

She had certain noticeable bulges hanging down from her hunched body, which at first seemed like an overhanging gut, or perhaps one of those issues some old people have lower down later in life.

Eyeeew.

But upon closer examination, you could see the lace of a bra surrounding these extremities, and I realised what I was seeing was actually her breasts. The were LITERALLY swinging just inches above her knees. She clearly was hunched over because of the weight of them. It took her several minutes to make her way down Ramillies Street, everyone around was looking anywhere to avoid seeming to stare, but every so often, EVERYONE stared.

Matt wondered if maybe in her younger days she was famous for them, perhaps as a porn star, I wondered maybe if she still was, just in a slightly more niche genre.

As the turned the corner (slowly, to avoid damaging the masonry of our building) I wondered why she didn’t just use the trolley to carry her tits; it would have been so much easier for her, although to be honest if she did have them in there, there wouldn’t have been room for as much as a bag of grapes from her shopping trip.

Matt said “you’d think doctors would have done something about that by now?”

What was most strange, was that 2 hours later, as I left work to go home and passed the London Palladium, just 30 seconds or so along the road from the earlier sighting, she was sitting on a step, looking exhausted – 2 hours later! I was tempted to ask her if I could get her a cab, but then thought that maybe the driver would insist she put her “baggage” in the boot.