Are those real?!

I must have some sort of sign reading "Please, poke me," that is invisible only to me.
That's the only explanation I have to all this poking business, because the frequency with which I'm poked by friends, family, and strangers alike surprises me... damn near scares me.
Not one semester passes without having someone invade my personal bubble.

Last semester was memorable because my bubble was violated big time, not once, but twice.

First, we had this unbelievably stupid bitch in my aquatic class that "accidentally" shoved her foot in my crack. Not above it, or in the more comfortable ass cheek, no, it was the crack. The uncomfortable seating arrangement in the chemistry building is to thank. They thought it was a bright idea to place tables on stair-like blocks of cement... so everyone is in everybody else's business in the classrooms in that building.
I guess this girl liked placing her foot on something... and I guess she extended too far (she must have really been gunning for one of my body parts or something) and Hello, Sunshine!
She took an unusually long time to remove her foot... I'm hoping she was just slow witted and needed extra time to realize that she was nearly giving me a colon exam... and not that she was enjoying the experience and hoping for me to give her my personal information so we could elope in Vermont (I don't intentionally try to attract the same sex, seriously).

The second time, instead of it being a fellow classmate, it was one of my relative's friends that missed my "do not trespass" imaginary sign.
We were all having a nice girl's night out. Having fun... making fun of ourselves, the usual good stuff. Then my cousin mentioned how she had gotten implants over the summer. She let everyone touch, mainly because someone asked her if they felt weird. Then 3 of the 5 girls present agreed "Oh yes, I'm totally getting them done. I just had to meet someone who had done it." (yeah, like that's SO hard, here in Vegas)
All the girls were flocking to my cousin's chest, and next thing you know, one of the (more intoxicated) chicks turned around towards me (because I wasn't about to go touch my cousin's tits), poked one of my chicas, and asked:
"Are those real?"
WTF, fool, honestly?
I'm not talking gentle poke... I'm talking I-gotta-penetrate-solidified-silicon poke. I might have to start getting mammograms at a much earlier age now, thanks to that poke.
I'm pretty sure I turned red (out of a blend of rage and embarrassment), I pushed the girl away (way to kill the easy going mood, I know), and answered:
"I would have never gotten implants this big."
Which, is totally true... but I guess something good came out of all that, since that weirdo is now my friend (and she pokes me whenever the mood strikes her... and I'm growing accustomed to having my personal space invaded).

That leads me to today.
I finished taking an exam a little early, so I stood outside waiting for Best Friend to come out.
I usually sit quietly and stare at the ground until the person I'm waiting for taps me so we can leave.
Well, as I stood in a corner, staring at the ground and thinking about music videos (exciting life, I know), I noticed the shadow of a body approaching me. Since I hate making eye-contact with people, I kept staring to the floor.
I guess they're waiting for someone to come out as well.
I zoned out (and I zone out pretty bad) only to be alarmed by a finger pressed on my eye.
Yes, my eye was poked by a person standing right next to me.
"Are those real?!"
My cornea, you fucking idiot?
She didn't poke me too hard, but it did frighten me.
It was a complete stranger, with her buddy, and she proceeded to ask me about mascara.
They complimented me (oh... nice. How about an ice pack for my face?) and went on their merry way.

My eyelashes aren't that out of the ordinary (they do manage to freak me out from time to time when looking under a microscope-- the "eyelash monster" according to Best Friend. I'm sure we're not the only ones who've experienced it), they remind me of spider legs to tell you the truth (tarantulas, to be exact). I guess there are people out there tempted to poke to make sure I don't have some sort of arthropod stuck to my eyelids(go ahead, get mascara all over your finger... and the guilt of knowing I may go blind thanks to your dirty ass finger).

How the hell is poking a stranger's face OK? What if I were wearing false eyelashes, and her poke made one of the lashes fall off? I'd be humiliated! I think she may have been mean-spirited, or just hardcore stupid.

I'm making myself another shirt, this one will read:
No, you can't poke me... anywhere!