So I am out, walking with my babies. BInkers is 4 now (as of yesterday), and Chubby Wubkins is just 8 months old. Yes. I am wearing a halter top. Yes. it is humid. about to rain. I am wearing a floor length skirt, with another skirt over it, pushing a stroller, with my hair down, with no makeup, wrangling my kids, trying to get candy for genny, because we are having a post-birthday candy, hide-and-go-seek. The last thing i care about right now is a strangers penis. Trust me. its not even on my mind. Im full of frivolous stupid sh*t like if i dont put on makeup, will people think im slovenly and dont give a damn? if i do put on makeup with this outfit, will people think im slutty and fishing, while out with my kids? which opinion is worse out of time. got to go. binkers has her helmet on. away we are But not once, did a desire to know about a random mans penis cross my mind. lots of stupid sh*t. but not that. So.. walking the kids those 3 blocks, there is.. someone so scrawny..in a backpack across the 4 lane major road, dancing, striking a pose, following me along on the opposite side..i cant tell if theyre a man or a woman. they are over 50ish for sure. Wearing a backpack.... can tell their teeth are bad from across the street... *looking nervously at my kids* *crosses my mind that im not armed, today, I am 54 tall, and 130 lbs* So... backpack is large enough to carry a bunch of things... they dont look to be of high quality.... average to low quality..beaten to shit..kinda dirty..clothing is ill fitting... dancing continues... inappropriate air grinding motions with hips follow... binkers has yet to notice.. i continue walking.. glancing at my phone...anywhere other than across the street *they are still in my peripheral vision* We go into walgreens, i fold up Binkers scooter In the argument as to WHY she isnt allowed to ride her scooter in the store, and why she can only have two bags of candy for her hunt.. Somewhere in the middle of bargaining for a healthy lemonade, and no she cant have an added sugar juice just because it has a figurine she likes from tv on it, Somewhere in all of that, I forget about the strange man/woman/not sure... I am a mom. doing mom things. I wonder if people judge me based on how happy my baby in my stroller is Or how aware i am of the scooter i carry under my arm or how pleased i am that i switched to a belt pouch and dont have to carry a purse. I wonder if we can make it back before it rains. I look around at faces and realize by the glances in the way they run, that i made the right choice. Skip the makeup. let people think im just tired and threw on whatever, rather than together and actually just comfortable in this outfit. I saw eyes get hard when they hit my bare mid-section, (despite the double skirts reaching the floor) and then soften when they saw my lack of makeup and hastily brushed hair. I muse about what kind of a world my daughter will grow up in The statistic that women who wear makeup make 30% more money than women who dont. And blondes do actually make more money... That world... I keep Binkers from knocking things over or grabbing anything I get chubby wubkins through the checkout with nary a fuss Yep. Forgot the man/woman. Shouldnt have. There they were. Right outside the Door. Bad teeth and all. Male. Definitely male. and trying to talk to me. Poorly shaven, scraggly mustache. so doesnt care much about the appearance. just enough to make a bad pass at it. Trying to ask me if I live around here.. whats going on... etc. etc. I have Binkers behind me.. backing away. I mention I really need to get back to my fiances House. now. its my daughters birthday. yesterday. might rain. gotta go. lovely to meet you. It appears the gentlemans name is buck. And he dont give a f*ck Charming. Right in front of my kid. He tries to give Binkers a dollar for her birthday.. I writhe inside as she takes it. I automatically tell her to say thank you. She does. I keep re-iterating to this..person..that i have to go..that i have to go now... it is going to rain.. lovely to talk to you.. no.. seriously.. I wont give you my phone number. No. I wont. Have to get back to my fiances house. now. yes. Because. Kids birthday. NO. my other child does not need a dollar. *i feel threatened. i look around... im pretty sure i can shove binkers over with the stroller at the same time... grab the piece of loose cement the detroit area is so delightfully famous for. and clock. not gouge. clock the sh*t out of that man if i need to.* *i use my body to angle my children appropriately between myself and this person* *they are trying to establish a connection with me, through my kids. trying to touch my kids* * i do not want them to touch my kids. I have made several go away noises. they arent going away. no i still wont give them my number* NO. Go away. I yearn to tell them that i have no interest in them, their penis, their lack of a response to my obviously taken status offered as a reason for them to leave me alone. I want to tell them that Yes, i do have carte blanche to do as i please, but I am SO SELECTIVE. the men i adore are the fathers of my children etc. That specifically, his scraggly, ill bathed, ill clothed ,rude, disgusting, unhygenic ass has absolutely zero chance with me and get the f*ck away from my kids, and if he so much as tries to touch them again, I will break off whatever the hell it was he is trying to show me and shove it down his damn throat. The satisfaction..the thought of saying all that..seems right. But. I want to get binkers home. Before the rain. I want my children safe. I dont want to provoke a fight. Binkers wants to know why the cars are honking.. so far, in a 6 block round trip, 5 cars have honked at mommy. The man follows us for blocks... ending with a nasty bump and grind dance in front of the local church/childrens school and playground. I hurry home... wondering if this is the world binkers will inherit.. how much stupid judgement bullsh*t women have to deal with..and what we have to put up with in order to feel safe... its confusing enough the hell out there as it is, why do we do this to our girls? Why do we do this to ourselves? I think of every last fatshaming, stickfigure shaming, this-shaming that-shaming... there is NO NEED to tear anyone down in order to build anyone up. There just isnt F*ck it. Im not playing this game anymore. Women. Time to own the world.
Posted on: Sun, 21 Sep 2014 00:15:30 +0000
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