Not that Friday though. Not that time. Fuck you!

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.