I don’t want to look like Cindy Crawford (who looks amazing for her age, BTW). I want to have piercings and tattoos. I want to have purple hair. I want to have weird eyes that look “brown,” but are really “WTF?” but you don’t notice unless you’re looking at them. I want to be tall. I want to be curvy. I want to be me, and it’s time I put my foot down. Whenever someone comes at me to tell me I’m too fat, or too alternative, or too weird, they’re going to wish they’d kept their mouths shut. I am as adamant about this as I was when I decided that I wouldn’t let older men intimidate me anymore. I had one in a while pick-up truck in Claremont behind me in traffic hollering at me out his window because I was going too slowly (I was doing the speed limit), and he didn’t like that. Any other time before, I might have just clammed up, or apologized, or increased my speed, but not that day.
I pulled up to the next red light, and he was still behind me. I looked at him in my rear-view, and then turned to look at him over my shoulder. When the light turned green, I sat there. He moved right up on my bumper, honking and hollering. I was ready to do the same thing at the next light, but he was turning left, so he pulled right up next to me. He rolled down his window and yelled “get off your phone!” at me. I showed him both my hands and yelled back, “I’m not on my fucking phone, you jack-ass. Why don’t you keep your mouth in your own car!” He rolled his window back up and just stared straight ahead until the light turned green, and we were off in separate directions. I’m serious. I refuse to let people push me around.
I refuse to let them get away with talking shit about my appearance. I’m not here to please your eye. If you don’t like what you see when you look at me, you can watch my big ass walk away.
-The Wyrd One