I've got a funny
absurd little story from earlier today that just resurfaced inside my head!
I dressed up nicely for Easter Mass today; two layered, loose-fitting dresses, a three-fourths collared shirt, my new blue/purple skinnies all under that cute double-breasted coat that I used back when I was five years old and some kitten heels.
Are you getting the key words in that description? Loose-fitting; cute; five-year-old coat?
Here, have a picture, too. Let's continue, shall we?
After an uneventful lunch at Applebee's, my family headed over to Pathmark for our usual weekly grocery trip. I decided to expedite the process by taking the list and getting everything that wasn't in the produce section- the coffee creamer, brown rice, ice cream, mayonnaise, Lactaid and the like.
I'm clacking down the tile floors sort of loudly, trying to get everything with basket on arm and list held in my mouth. Which, by the way, was hard. I knew I should have changed after Church.
After getting frustrated by the mayonnaise and ice cream, I go into the dairy aisle to get the Lactaid, because, y'know, that's easy, finding a carton that says "Lactaid" in large letters and with purple on it for low fat. I grab two, drop 'em into my basket, and make my way down the aisle to rejoin my mother in her quest to find the perfect fruits and vegetables for the week.
I clack past a group of twentysomething guys that I passed by earlier. Of course, my clacks attract attention even though I'm not looking at them. Of course, they're the type of guys that I don't really like at all. (Mind you, had it been the kind of guy I like, I would have been less offended, but stil offended.)
I walk by, wobbling on my heels and trying to carry the basket, and the guy closest to me catches my eye for a second, which was just. No.
And then I hear an, "Mmm, sexy."
And I am disgusted to no end; so much that I am fuming until I get back to my mom's side.
Seriously. Does my outfit scream sexy to you, f-list? I know I look older than my age sometimes, but I don't know why a person like that would go for a teenager dressed in a very obvious child's jacket, because that is just all sorts of disgusting in my opinion. And you know, sexy is dressed very conservatively.
Eye-raped, you guys, eye-raped. I felt it. D: God, I feel violated.
I hate being called sexy. I really do. If it's in another context where it's necessary, then so be it. But if I'm just out and about, it bothers me so much. I'm sixteen, for God's sakes, I don't need that. I don't hold an air of that. Ergh, what is it about me? This isn't the first time, either /:
Overreacting, I know.
And that was my melodramatic recollection for the day! *smacked* I'm going to go back to my christmas live now.
