Six Word Saturday
I walked into town today in shorts and a t-shirt - it's overcast but warm and I have a dodgy thermostat and tend to overheat. Halfway down the road a bunch of teenagers drove past and the passenger leant out of the window and pretended to retch in my direction. Yes they are pleasant lads around here.
So, a few things went through my mind:
Oh my god, do I look that bad?
Why do teenagers feel the need to be hurtful to complete strangers, just to impress their friends? there's no way he'd have done it if he'd been alone.
"I bet I look better than you will at 45, sunshine."
"One day you'll realise that real women aren't Photoshopped."
"Your legs wouldn't look that brilliant if they'd been crushed for 90 minutes - shall I show you...?"
Ok, my legs don't look the best - cellulite and not much muscle tone to speak of just now (but I'm working on that one). And they are odd, I mean not matching, not just 'odd'.
For about 10 seconds I thought "maybe I shouldn't wear shorts" - very rapidly followed by "Fuck them, I'll wear what I damn well like, if they don't like it, they don't have to look."
At a flick of the points, that of course took my train of thought off to how much we judge what other people wear, and we women are particularly bad at this. "Oh my god look at her, she SO shouldn't wear that top, what does she think she looks like?"
Now there are some fashions which I personally don't like, but it usually isn't personal to the individual wearing them (except that they should perhaps think before following fashion so rigorously). At the moment it is black footless tights and skirts/dresses, and those stupid little pump shoes that no-one over the age of 10 ought to wear (in my ever so humble opinion).
I do think over the last few months I have become a lot more accepting of other people, maybe it is the studying that is making me think before I judge. As soon as someone makes a 'Daily Mail'* type statement I will be considering the other viewpoint, and even - if I'm feeling brave - voicing it. (*UK readers will understand what I mean). But it still needs work, there is something inside us all that likes to make ourselves feel better by denigrating others, whether spoken or unspoken.
Anyway, by the time I was walking home I didn't care if people were looking at my legs, it makes a change to them looking at my breasts at least.