Don't Talk to Strangers

Leaving work, a large African-American woman (clad in a bright orange matching tank top and pants) held the door for me.

ME: "Thanks."
HER: "You're welcome."

And so began the most insanely awkward conversation of my life. My thoughts are in italics.
Further down the hall, she starts trying to tuck her bra strap under her tank.

HER: "I would wear a white bra with this orange tank top."
ME: "Haha." Why? Why do I have this insane need to smile and laugh at people?
HER: "I have an orange bra I could wear, but in the mornin' I ain't worryin' about no colors, you know?"
ME: "Sure. They're just lucky you wore one at all." In retrospect, I don't know why I said this. I guess I pretty much asked for what came next.
HER: "You know?!? Girl, if I was skinny as you I sure wouldn't be wearin' no bra. Back when I was skinny, I didn't wear no bra ever. But then I put this weight on, and they don't tell you but when you gain weight you gain it everywhere. I wish I didn't have these big ol' breasts, cause you gotta wear a bra all the time! They get all close to your body and make ya sweat!" This woman is telling me about her big sweaty breasts. Is this really happening?
ME: "That can't be comfortable." please go away please go away please go away
HER: "I'll tell you what, it's the first thing that comes off when I get home though! I walk through that door and snap snap, I let everything hang loose! I'd do it at work if I could. Sometimes in the winter I do...wear a nice big sweater, go into the bathroom and take that bra off. It's confinin'!"
ME: "Uh huh." Annnnnd, I just died a little inside.
HER: "Oh, I'm parked over here. All this talk, I'm probably gonna take this thing off soon as I get in the car!"
ME: "Okay! Bye."