Since becoming a lady, it has become apparent to me that stairs were made for the enhancement of bosoms. Don't believe me? Just think about it for a minute.
Who among us ladies has not noticed the pleasant, happy bouncing effect achieved by clomping down a set of stairs? It immediately lifts the mood! One quick jaunt down the staircase can turn any dull, sad mammaries into the perky, Pamela-Anderson-slow-running-on-the-beach bosoms!
Why, even the word "stare" comes from the word "stairs!" True story: back during the days of corsetry, men would climb the stairs to the level above the ladies for the sole purpose of looking down at the cleavage below them without being caught obviously feasting upon the visual image. It became a practice commonly know as "ascending of stairs for viewing of bosoms below," but precocious youths shortened the phrase to "stairing at bosoms," which, in time, was shortened still further, to simply, "staring at boobs." Unfortunately, it was about this time that the rigid practices of deception became lax, and men were frequently caught in the act, which gave rise to the more popular phrase, "Quit staring at my boobs!" which has now become the vernacular.