Since NYE, I\'ve been making an effort to look
more scary.
Wellington had it\'s beer goggles on that night.
As I walked back from the railway station, having
dipatched a friend back to the wilds of
Paraparaumu, almost every male I passed took
it upon himself to pass comment on the state of
my breasts and/or buttocks.
Now, I realise I\'m not hideous. That\'s fine by me,
I like looking the way I do - but by the same
token, I can\'t help the way I look.
I was heading home at about 6.30, when I
discovered, to my delight, an open cafe! I went in
and sat down alone with my latte... only to be
relentlessly hit on by a bouncer from a bar I\'d
been to earlier that night (my friend blew chunks
in the doorway of said bar)... and it was
absolutely relentless. At first I was glad of the
company... however, after I\'d mentioned several
times that I have a boyfriend, and that he was at
the Gathering, the bouncer geezer was still
insisting \"It\'d be fun. You\'re a very sexy girl. You
have lovely breasts\"
I wanted to yell to all and sundry \"YES. I have
TITS. I\'m SORRY but I CAN\"T HELP IT! GET THE
FUCK OUT OF MY FACE!!\"
Being the ladylike thing I am, I refrained.... but
since NYE, I\'ve been wearing my dog collar
more often, and making an effort to look a bit
freaky, in an effort to discourage shit like the
above.
Sometimes it\'s like - I have a high IQ, I have
thoughts, ideas, opinions, talents.... but none of
that matters shit, cause I\'m all tits and arse.
It\'s nice to be appreciated.... but I find it really
intrusive to have strangers pass comment on
my body.
Fortunately, my boy likes me looking a little
scary..... but I tend to cop abuse from the same
type of strangers who whistle and yell if I look
more feminine......
That\'s my rant. It\'s not very well worded, but I
think I\'m done....
- e -