I went downtown tonight to see a performance of the Young Women’s Drumming Empowerment Project. They are brilliant, they totally rocked, and I wrote a review of it that might be posted elsewhere. But on the way there I stopped at a tollbooth, handed a fiver to the attendant, and waited for my change.
He just held my money for a while and didn’t move, just stared at me making googoo eyes and saying “Oh you are so beautiful! You are very beautiful!” He was an old man with a white beard, from Pakistan I think. I said, “Thank you, can I have my change now?” He still didn’t move, saying “You are so beautiful I forgot to get the change!” and stared at me some more until I told him to just do his job already.
I mean, there is literally no place a woman can feel safe from getting hit on–like in the middle of fucking traffic, for cripes sakes?! The only worse setting would be a combat zone! This was not the first time guys in tollbooths have hit on me, but it was the most blatant use of an invasive male gaze I ever got from a tollbooth. Screw those guys, that does it, I’m buying a Smartpass tomorrow!
Hunh. I get guys introducing themselves with, “Hey, cutie, call me Yamaha!” and offering to trade me a pair of their sister’s underwear for the ones I was wearing. Never has my stunning beauty caused one to forget how to count change.
Is it? I thought I’d seen you complaining elsewhere that having been born with a built-in testosterone supply meant that your facial bone structure was inappropriately masculine.
Oh indeed. It wasn’t the bone structure so much as Johanna’s earlier complaint about it that was puzzling me. I mean, it’s not like I have a dog in this fight or any reason to stand up for the rights of white-bearded Pakistani tollbooth workers to hit on MtF lesbian grandparents, it’s just my propensity for fretting over trivia asserting itself.
Oddly, while out driving last Thursday, I got hit on in traffic twice. Once was from a car next to me at a red light, which was odd but no big deal. The second time was in dense 50mph traffic, WHILE I WAS TRYING TO CHANGE LANES. Idiot. And I’m a very large lady - not the typical girl men stop driving for.
That I am. An accurate description. My facial bone structure is not entirely masculine, it’s androgynous, somewhere in the middle. No matter which gender I present as, the other is bound to be mixed in there. If I was complaining before, it’s because 50% felt like too much. But as Imasquare and others will point out, these days it’s considered stylish for models to not only be tall but have androgynous facial structure as well. Not my first choice, but still a good basis for manifesting beauty. What matters most is good skincare.
I don’t circulate pix of me. Camera flashes always get the lighting wrong. The only pic of me with halfway acceptable lighting was taken by a cell phone.
I see the problem. The OP was supposed to park, steal his prayer rug, fly to Iraq, and shoot the Evil Kalif of Bhagdad (played by Donald Rumsfeld) through the forehead with the Crossbow of Truth…
Shrug. I get hit on in traffic, at the grocery store, etc. Once a guy motioned for me to pull over, I thought something was wrong with my car. I did, and he said he thought I was beautiful and asked if he could kiss me :rolleyes: (It was the middle of the day in a busy neighborhood or I wouldn’t have pulled over)
He was a college student in a car full of his friends though, so I think that egged him on. I have a feeling he said something about me, then a friend said, oh yeah, then go talk to her, etc. I don’t think he would have done it if he was alone. Guy pack bravado and all that.
