It has again been far too long… I will again try to update
this on a regular basis… but alas who are we kidding.
Today I would to write a letter… A letter to the foul truck
drivers that think it is ok to honk and blow kisses… This is an ode to you
arseholes.
Dear Trucky,
The day had started well for me. Thank you for asking… Oh no, that is right
you couldn't as we do not know each other and I would be shocked to learn you
even had those basic manners anyways. As
I walk the 30 mins to work, I like to have what I call my time. In this space I listen to a random selection
of music that does not match and create lists of what I am going to do that
day. I have conversation in my head that
will never happen and think about the guy I am in love with but does not love
me and work out “how to” get over him.
Whilst this is all going on I sometimes relive the terrible and somewhat
mortifying things I have done and other times I think of how far I have
come.
You may find this shocking to learn but I am not boobs, I am
a person. I am not sure if you have a
mother, wife, daughter, niece or some effigy of the female kind… But I suggest
next time you decide to honk or blow a kiss, think of them... then remember I am a person. You would not do this if you were merely
walking by or if you were at the other table at a café. You hide in your truck and zoom on by leaving
me to feel very uncomfortable and sometimes not all that safe. I do not consider myself a strong feminist, I love a dirty joke, can hang with the boys and do
not wish to harp on about this. So what occurred
on Friday was a mere reaction to your arsehole action.
As previously stated this time in the morning is an active
time for my brain… So with so much going on at that time I can sometimes react
without much pre-thought. Again I was
listing things to be done in my day; you again drove past and blew a kiss… I
could not even tell you what went through my head and I have thought about it…
I do not even care what did. I grabbed
the first thing in my handbag and hiffed it at you. That is right… it was I. I, who usually just gasps and then carries on
walking in fury, making lists about what I would like to say to your manager,
or you! Not that Friday though. Not that time. Fuck you!
That yogurt served a greater purpose that day.
Yes I was hungry at lunch… but what got me through… Pure, unadulterated
satisfaction. I had taken action.
This really has no point - aside from the fact that FUCK OFF
DICK HEAD. You cannot hear what I yell
but from now on I have moved past the fear and will forever more throw things
at you! I do not even care what they
are.
Regards,
No longer a tad scared a lot mad but now takes action with no fear.
