Good morning to the three boys in the pick-up truck,
I know, it must have been hilarious to have seen me walking this morning, while unbeknownst to me, I had a little wardrobe malfunction. I know, hil-ari-ous. I wish I could say I'm sorry that my blouse untucked itself from my skirt, and - how horrible of me - showed off just a slice of skin on my waist. Absolutely terrible. But I just can't. And I know, you had to inform this to everyone around us by laughing uproariously and pointing while calling out rudely. I know I definitely needed that humiliation at eight in the morning. Thank you ever so much for doing me that favor.
I just really can't find any sort of humor in the sitauation at all. I mean, it's skin. On my waist. You have it too. I'm sure if you lifted up your shirt, you would have some there. Actually, I'm downright positive you will. Promise. Cross my heart even. So, what's the big deal if you see mine? Were you shocked, that as a woman, I had skin underneath my clothing? Did you miss that lesson in high school? It was an accident on my part; unfortunately for me, clothing tends to move around a bit when you walk a mile to work.
But what's even worse, was the whistling. Do I look like a dog, good sirs? If you whistled, was I suppose to obediently trot over to be petted? Last time I checked, there was no tail or floppy ears. So where did this idea come from, that whistling at me was your next course of action? And then you had the audacity to be shocked -shocked! - when I didn't respond to your catcalls. That's when you got so unnecessarily nasty with me. Funny, isn't it, that you would whistle at me so crudely and then I would dare not respond to you? Amazing, right? After you paid me such nice compliments by laughing at me, how was able to resist such charm?
Well, here's the secret guys: I'm not a dog. Or an object. I tend not to come when called. I make mistakes, and sometimes, even have wardrobe malfuctions on the way to work. It's because I'm human, and I really don't like being treated like anything less. I don't appreciate you humilitating me, and becoming angry when I ignore you. I'm also a woman, and you have no right to say such rude things to me. Ever. Because I do have skin underneath my clothing (take a minute to process that, I know some of you might need it). And you know what else? Every woman does. We have skin, big deal. I promise my waist will do nothing scandalous to you. So next time, keep those remarks to yourself. I don't appreciate you whistling at me, laughing at me, or even calling me a bitch when I didn't come over to you. I deserve to be treated with a little more respect than that. I know that might be a little too difficult for you to believe, since obviously, you were put on this planet to degrade women by humilitating them in public, but I think it's time for you to find a new hobby, boys.
I mean, let's be honest, whywould any woman want to talk to you? Especially with such immature behavoir like that. Please, I would have a better conversation with a wall than you Neanderthrals.
So, this morning I kept on walking, and did my best to ignore your insults and taunts. I ignored the twinge of fear I felt, and hoped you didn't follow me. But you should be the ones feeling shame, not me. I have skin, you have skin. There is nothing wrong with it. It's actually pretty cool (being the largest organ and all), so make fools of yourself in your blue pick up, cat calling. I am better than that. All women are better than your perverted, sick archaic way of behaving. Grow up, boys, and do us all a favor and learn some respect.
I know, it must have been hilarious to have seen me walking this morning, while unbeknownst to me, I had a little wardrobe malfunction. I know, hil-ari-ous. I wish I could say I'm sorry that my blouse untucked itself from my skirt, and - how horrible of me - showed off just a slice of skin on my waist. Absolutely terrible. But I just can't. And I know, you had to inform this to everyone around us by laughing uproariously and pointing while calling out rudely. I know I definitely needed that humiliation at eight in the morning. Thank you ever so much for doing me that favor.
I just really can't find any sort of humor in the sitauation at all. I mean, it's skin. On my waist. You have it too. I'm sure if you lifted up your shirt, you would have some there. Actually, I'm downright positive you will. Promise. Cross my heart even. So, what's the big deal if you see mine? Were you shocked, that as a woman, I had skin underneath my clothing? Did you miss that lesson in high school? It was an accident on my part; unfortunately for me, clothing tends to move around a bit when you walk a mile to work.
But what's even worse, was the whistling. Do I look like a dog, good sirs? If you whistled, was I suppose to obediently trot over to be petted? Last time I checked, there was no tail or floppy ears. So where did this idea come from, that whistling at me was your next course of action? And then you had the audacity to be shocked -shocked! - when I didn't respond to your catcalls. That's when you got so unnecessarily nasty with me. Funny, isn't it, that you would whistle at me so crudely and then I would dare not respond to you? Amazing, right? After you paid me such nice compliments by laughing at me, how was able to resist such charm?
Well, here's the secret guys: I'm not a dog. Or an object. I tend not to come when called. I make mistakes, and sometimes, even have wardrobe malfuctions on the way to work. It's because I'm human, and I really don't like being treated like anything less. I don't appreciate you humilitating me, and becoming angry when I ignore you. I'm also a woman, and you have no right to say such rude things to me. Ever. Because I do have skin underneath my clothing (take a minute to process that, I know some of you might need it). And you know what else? Every woman does. We have skin, big deal. I promise my waist will do nothing scandalous to you. So next time, keep those remarks to yourself. I don't appreciate you whistling at me, laughing at me, or even calling me a bitch when I didn't come over to you. I deserve to be treated with a little more respect than that. I know that might be a little too difficult for you to believe, since obviously, you were put on this planet to degrade women by humilitating them in public, but I think it's time for you to find a new hobby, boys.
I mean, let's be honest, whywould any woman want to talk to you? Especially with such immature behavoir like that. Please, I would have a better conversation with a wall than you Neanderthrals.
So, this morning I kept on walking, and did my best to ignore your insults and taunts. I ignored the twinge of fear I felt, and hoped you didn't follow me. But you should be the ones feeling shame, not me. I have skin, you have skin. There is nothing wrong with it. It's actually pretty cool (being the largest organ and all), so make fools of yourself in your blue pick up, cat calling. I am better than that. All women are better than your perverted, sick archaic way of behaving. Grow up, boys, and do us all a favor and learn some respect.
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