Who is to say what is funny? I seem to have a corner of the head-space  which is funny to some and suffusive with loathing to others. I myself can not seem to decide how funny am I really. An objective perspective, being an impossibility, causes me to ponder the relevance of my query. Silly I guess, in my own head so I find the asking as funny as the barrage of answers my mind wanders to.
Today's bemusement? A woman's dress. Too large a woman or too small a dress? The argument can be made for both. The breasts having long ago given up their roundish shape for a more lengthy version with gravity to blame, are tucked ever so unceremoniously inside or rather just behind petals of fabric too low to be of any consequence. A torpedo effect having been the only fathomable objective in choosing such a frock. Short and full at the bottom bringing the eye inexorably back to the unflattering bosom.  I can only wonder what she must see when she dons her garment and gazes back at herself from the mirror. Surely it cannot be what I see. Alas I take mental note and relay now to you...shaking my head and wondering.