So this happened...
~~Copied from my FB as I think this is really just a better place for it in so many ways.
So, as those of you who know me in person or through those rare photos of me know I am a larger lady. Both in overall size and in being buxom, voluptuous, curvy, zaftig whatever: I have big breasts, I cannot lie etc. Anyhow today I was wearing a well fitted bra and a v-neck dress; my cleavage was YES not all hidden away; and nor was I. I was feeling pretty but not on display.
Apparently I was wrong! I was on display for someone else's delectation. Now a lot of the time this would be an okay thing, a good thing, a meh thing -- but today it was a creepy a thing. An uncomfortable thing. A maybe, after all I'm not feeling safe thing. (And bear in mind this is coming from a girl who used to work bar in a strip club on Hindley and still wanders around the city on her own. In the dark! In whateverry clothes!)
I was catching a train to town, cause god knows I need to get out of the house more. This older guy (at a guess I'd say mid-60s) Stared at my chest. Not at me you note. And actually not at my chest. At my breasts my tits my bosom. He looked away. I was half reading Simply Dangerous and half watching the world around me. He was looking at me again. Okay. Fine. I'm nice to look at it get it moving on -- but he didn't move on.
We got on the train; he took a seat not next to, but near me: I read as you do. Reading is amazing as an escape from the world, a time shortener but also, at times as a shield.
Train gets to Elizabeth guy gets off the train. And you'd think that's the end of my story but you would be wrong.
He didn't just walk off the train with maybe a small (unwelcome but whatever) glance at me. No that'd be too classy, respectful, uncreepy. No. He stands up Staring at my "assets", he takes a few steps towards me eyeing my "melons." At this point I'm both feeling nervous and paranoid. I'm not sure if I'm just imaginaing this a little bit, over reading -- you know slightly egotistical maybe, I mean I know I'm not the hottest thing ever or the biggest belle at anyone's ball (oh so many twists on biggest there ahem) (or come to think of it a belle at any ball but that's a different tale) -- but back to my point I'm paranoid that I'm Imagining him staring, and I'm paranoid that I'm not. This is not a state of mind anyone wants to find themselves in when going out for an outing. But then -- and here's the end, the point -- he gets even with me and he doesn't keep going. Oh he doesn't stop, or speak to me, he doesnt "invade my space," he doesn't harm me -- he just turns around and walks off the train BACKWARDS to keep looking at me.
Now you might be saying geesh girl brag about a guy looking at you much. But it's not bragging. It's venting. Though Fb isn't the place for such long posts really.
People look at other people. People admire other people. If i see an attractive man or woman I look, I see. I appreciate the curves or the flatnesses -- but I don't stare and stare and stare -- it's not that it's discourteous -- although it is that -- it's that it leaves someone feeling marked, noted, awkward --
Unsafe.
I had originally been going to get off at that stop but I didn't.
Rightly or wrongly; it had left me feeling:
Unsafe.
So, as those of you who know me in person or through those rare photos of me know I am a larger lady. Both in overall size and in being buxom, voluptuous, curvy, zaftig whatever: I have big breasts, I cannot lie etc. Anyhow today I was wearing a well fitted bra and a v-neck dress; my cleavage was YES not all hidden away; and nor was I. I was feeling pretty but not on display.
Apparently I was wrong! I was on display for someone else's delectation. Now a lot of the time this would be an okay thing, a good thing, a meh thing -- but today it was a creepy a thing. An uncomfortable thing. A maybe, after all I'm not feeling safe thing. (And bear in mind this is coming from a girl who used to work bar in a strip club on Hindley and still wanders around the city on her own. In the dark! In whateverry clothes!)
I was catching a train to town, cause god knows I need to get out of the house more. This older guy (at a guess I'd say mid-60s) Stared at my chest. Not at me you note. And actually not at my chest. At my breasts my tits my bosom. He looked away. I was half reading Simply Dangerous and half watching the world around me. He was looking at me again. Okay. Fine. I'm nice to look at it get it moving on -- but he didn't move on.
We got on the train; he took a seat not next to, but near me: I read as you do. Reading is amazing as an escape from the world, a time shortener but also, at times as a shield.
Train gets to Elizabeth guy gets off the train. And you'd think that's the end of my story but you would be wrong.
He didn't just walk off the train with maybe a small (unwelcome but whatever) glance at me. No that'd be too classy, respectful, uncreepy. No. He stands up Staring at my "assets", he takes a few steps towards me eyeing my "melons." At this point I'm both feeling nervous and paranoid. I'm not sure if I'm just imaginaing this a little bit, over reading -- you know slightly egotistical maybe, I mean I know I'm not the hottest thing ever or the biggest belle at anyone's ball (oh so many twists on biggest there ahem) (or come to think of it a belle at any ball but that's a different tale) -- but back to my point I'm paranoid that I'm Imagining him staring, and I'm paranoid that I'm not. This is not a state of mind anyone wants to find themselves in when going out for an outing. But then -- and here's the end, the point -- he gets even with me and he doesn't keep going. Oh he doesn't stop, or speak to me, he doesnt "invade my space," he doesn't harm me -- he just turns around and walks off the train BACKWARDS to keep looking at me.
Now you might be saying geesh girl brag about a guy looking at you much. But it's not bragging. It's venting. Though Fb isn't the place for such long posts really.
People look at other people. People admire other people. If i see an attractive man or woman I look, I see. I appreciate the curves or the flatnesses -- but I don't stare and stare and stare -- it's not that it's discourteous -- although it is that -- it's that it leaves someone feeling marked, noted, awkward --
Unsafe.
I had originally been going to get off at that stop but I didn't.
Rightly or wrongly; it had left me feeling:
Unsafe.
