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dragonlady7via https://ift.tt/2GfymuO
[on street harassment, or not, really, in this case]
I walked to work today in the pouring rain because today is the day the garage could service my car and I’m a dumbass and didn’t look at the weather report before committing to it.
I wore yoga pants and a tank top and carried a whole spare outfit down to the shoes in my bag, and I wasn’t wrong, I arrived at work completely soaked through. My underpants were the only garment I didn’t change, and that was only because I hadn’t brought spares.
(I discovered that my middle-aged hip problem is helped by walking, but my foot problem is badly exacerbated by it, good insoles/expensive flip-flops or no. Alas. I can work around it a bit by walking the way I learned to walk barefoot as a child, though– toes down first, roll the stride backward– but it’s slower because I can’t push off at the end of the stride without it hurting.)
On my way home it wasn’t raining but it was beastly hot, so I changed back into the tank top and yoga pants to walk home. All proceeded without incident until the only traffic light I usually have to wait at, where the small side street I walk down crosses a larger, busy street. There was a dump truck and a bucket-loader thing there, and they were doing large item garbage pickup, and so I had to cross the side street so that when I crossed the main road I wouldn’t be in the midst of this operation.
As I continued down the side street, I’d made it most of the way down the block before a large engine came roaring down. I turned to look, and it was the dump truck. The bucket loader thingy was behind it, going faster than I thought those things could go.
And the driver was staring so hard at my ass that he whipped his head around and kept staring after he’d passed, making me worry he’d break his neck right off and crash into the dump truck. But apparently he’s got experience at doing that because he didn’t.
I didn’t think these yoga pants were particularly flattering, but there’s no accounting for taste. (No, I’m not offended because he didn’t say anything or change his behavior or in any way try to attract my attention, so I just thought it was funny that I happened to notice him looking.) (If you, reading this, have recently been offended or frightened by someone looking at you, believe me, I do get it! I just wasn’t, in this case.)
[on street harassment, or not, really, in this case]
I walked to work today in the pouring rain because today is the day the garage could service my car and I’m a dumbass and didn’t look at the weather report before committing to it.
I wore yoga pants and a tank top and carried a whole spare outfit down to the shoes in my bag, and I wasn’t wrong, I arrived at work completely soaked through. My underpants were the only garment I didn’t change, and that was only because I hadn’t brought spares.
(I discovered that my middle-aged hip problem is helped by walking, but my foot problem is badly exacerbated by it, good insoles/expensive flip-flops or no. Alas. I can work around it a bit by walking the way I learned to walk barefoot as a child, though– toes down first, roll the stride backward– but it’s slower because I can’t push off at the end of the stride without it hurting.)
On my way home it wasn’t raining but it was beastly hot, so I changed back into the tank top and yoga pants to walk home. All proceeded without incident until the only traffic light I usually have to wait at, where the small side street I walk down crosses a larger, busy street. There was a dump truck and a bucket-loader thing there, and they were doing large item garbage pickup, and so I had to cross the side street so that when I crossed the main road I wouldn’t be in the midst of this operation.
As I continued down the side street, I’d made it most of the way down the block before a large engine came roaring down. I turned to look, and it was the dump truck. The bucket loader thingy was behind it, going faster than I thought those things could go.
And the driver was staring so hard at my ass that he whipped his head around and kept staring after he’d passed, making me worry he’d break his neck right off and crash into the dump truck. But apparently he’s got experience at doing that because he didn’t.
I didn’t think these yoga pants were particularly flattering, but there’s no accounting for taste. (No, I’m not offended because he didn’t say anything or change his behavior or in any way try to attract my attention, so I just thought it was funny that I happened to notice him looking.) (If you, reading this, have recently been offended or frightened by someone looking at you, believe me, I do get it! I just wasn’t, in this case.)
