My first ever Writing.com journal. |
today i had to walk to blockbuster after class (quick back story: last week during one of my infamous crying jags, i got the brilliant idea to walk the half-mile to the strip mall, rent a bunch of corny movies--including beauty and the beast, which will become important to this story--and watch them all in a row; i returned them on tuesday afternoon, then discovered yesterday that i'd accidentally put one of krystle's blank fujifilm tapes in the beauty and the beast case, which warranted another trip...okay, that back story was entirely uninteresting but basically stands to establish that everything that happened this afternoon could have been avoided if i wasn't such an ubercrier), never a good idea if you're me (one hundred pounds even, quick on my feet but decidedly NOT known for my street smarts) and live in approximately the seediest neighborhood in the atlanta metro area (this semester alone, three of my close friends have been mugged at gunpoint on that very same trek). so i'm walking, trying to look tougher than i am (difficult considering i'm carrying beauty and the beast sans case) and forgetting to hide the school logo emblazoned across my chest, and these two guys walking in the opposite direction turn to look at me, give me the classic lewd once-over, make one relatively complimentary remark about my butt, and then let fly with the ridiculous obscenities. normally i let this go. i'm not the sloe-eyed beauty queen who gets hit on by every calibur of guy she encounters. (that would be my ex-roommate, and typically as long as i'm with her i don't have to worry about unwanted attention, period.) rather, i'm the reasonably attractive librarian type, too thin but with a nice figure and a cute face. at first glance most people estimate my age at fifteen and leave me alone. but a certain subgroup--presumably pedophiles with nothing better to do--does exactly what this pair did, zeroes in on some feature (my butt seems to be the favorite) and uses it as a gateway to the "laughably inappropriate" zone. i normally let it go because i'm not confrontational; because i'm not witty enough to come up with snappy retorts on the spot; because i don't want to get yelled at or hit or raped. i have, i think, all the best reasons for not standing up for myself when i get harassed on the street. today, i happened to be pondering one of the many injustices of my particular life: the fact that people seem to love and adore me physically, emotionally, and every which way--UNTIL they get to know me, at which point their interest immediately takes a nosedive. more on this later. the point is, i was feeling unusually hostile, and our curbside conversation ended with me screaming tearfully at the two of them about how they wouldn't be interested in ANY aspect of me--my butt or my tongue included--once they grew to know how needy and undesirable i was, as proven by a thousand present and recent relationship failures. all's well that ends well. they exchanged a baffled look and walked away, gold teeth flashing. i proceeded to blockbuster, crying and clutching my tape more tightly but otherwise none the worse for wear. i added a stroke to the mental tally of times i've stood up for myself in the auc--bringing the grand total to a whopping two. marcus will hear about this tonight, and berate me for walking through hell unchaperoned. and conveniently ignore the part about my feeling undesirable, as he always does. but, be proud of me! and see title: except in the sense that i cry at the drop of a hat these days, i am UNBREAKABLE. |