Ooooo.... so reminds me of a Russian girl I had to train on a CNC lathe.
Surrounded by factory workers, mostly male, she showed up her first day with her hair and her decollate way, way down from what her pushup bra was exaggerating way, way up.
First rule, I told her, is that you hair goes up or you go out. No one can wear their hair down here, man or woman. Those machines will drag you right in by the hair and mess you up, bad.
Second rule, I said, is really a suggestion. Don't dress like *that* in here. You will always want to wear button up shirts and probably t-shirts under those, even.... untucked.
She quickly twirled her hair up in a bun but scolded me about the second "rule": "Are you such a prude that my breasts bother you?"
"Nope. That's not it at all."
I hit the air hose to clean parts on a pallet. Big shower of razor-sharp curls exploded from it, some of which made their way back to us. "Do this," I said, pulling at my shirt a few times to let the curly razors fall out.
She pulled at her shirt just a second but jumped back, alarmed, said "Ow." Then... "Ow ow ow ow" as she was hopping around. Her boulder holder had formed her breasts into a razor collection funnel. And they weren't coming out, just repositioning themselves, grinding around in there.
Never saw her again at work except for she was buttoned up to the adam's apple.
I've got nothing against female breasts. Intriguing shapes and textures to be sure -- unless they have been carved up by the cat scratches of steel freshly trimmed from manifold parts.....
.... or blistered up from sparks from a pipe. (Some things maybe should be protected from the embers).