Medical Examiners like boobs too

My day-to-day existence as a real estate attorney is fairly mundane. Once upon a time, though, I wanted to be a criminal attorney. To that end, I did a clinic in law school with a DA's office in a large metropolitan county. While I'm not sure I could do that for a living, the gig provided me with no end of interesting stories.

I worked with Mike* (named changed to protect the innocent), an Assistant DA with four years experience who was awesome at his job. He and I got along really well and he was a great mentor. Mike tried mostly murder cases by the time I arrived at the office, and his cases tended to be gory, horrifying and thrilling all at the same time.

There was a case where a 23-year old girl was killed by her ex-boyfriend. He'd disposed of her in a lake, and, when finally found a couple of days later, she had some discolorations on her skin that made it difficult to discern the fatal injury from post-mortem decomposition. In order to prepare for trial, Mike had to meet with the Medical Examiner.

This meeting happened while I was in the office. Mike asked me to join in and I jumped at the chance. I'd never met a real-life M.E. before. I had the mental image of a wry, brainy woman, like Dr. G or the M.E. on Law & Order. At the worst, I pictured the wise-cracking guy from CSI. Nothing could have prepared me for the Medical Examiner I met.

I was introduced to the doctor, a slight man in the later stages of middle age. He had thinning salt and pepper hair, glasses and wore a sport coat and gray slacks, professional but about a decade away from fashionable. Pretty typical stuff. The problem began after the intial introduction and hand shake. For the rest of the meeting - which lasted approximately 30 minutes - the good doctor was unable to avert his eyes from my chest whenever he looked at me.

Literally, it was so obvious I looked down to make sure I didn't have a stain or maybe a small, furry mammal hitchhiking on the front of my shirt. Don't get me wrong, I count my breasts as one of my best assets, but to be this obvious? It was unprecedented. Clearly this guy had spent the last twenty years in a hole... okay, well, a sterile building surrounded by dead people. Okay, I guess I could see his interest. He's not exactly used to seeing those things when they're ALIVE, ya know?

So we ended our little meeting, and the M.E. left. Mike looked at me and asked, "Do you think he was happy to see a live woman? He didn't take his eyes of your chest the whole time! Did you notice? Tell me you noticed."

I kind of felt dirty, but I guess I couldn't blame the guy. I mean, how many live women does this guy get to see on the average day, let alone live, 26-year old women with highlights, heels and a graduate degree?

Public Service Announcement: Medical Examiners like boobs too, ladies.