this morning started out so beautiful- warm, hot even, summer dresses and big sunglasses and brunch with friends. i was told twice during the day about how much weight i’ve lost since the beginning of this season, and it’s true, and i felt it. my confidence lead me to buying this mint green maxi dress despite my height and despite it all, and i guess the rest goes.
i wore it out tonight for a classic night out with my roommate. too many pitchers and swing dancing and one tin of copenhagen we split.
a man sat down beside me at the bar, tried to touch my knee, and i made it clear i do not like to be touched, but when he got up to leave at my unresponsiveness, he took a grab at my right breast, and then i kind of blacked out-ish.
i grabbed him by the throat, put him in a choke hold, threw him against a keno machine and told him calmly about the disrespect that was not only to me but all woman and he should never do that again. i took it upon myself to kick him out of the bar.
the rest is weird. adrenaline, yeah? the bartender bought me a top shelf shot and said it was his pleasure since i just did his job, and he’s glad women like me exist, and all i can think is how fucking lucky i am.
what i resorted to when that happened to me was feminism and physical strength which is a combination i am goddamn lucky to have. this was taught to me, instilled, by a hard mother and stern brothers and college and tumblr posts. i work trail, and i feel strong everyday, and i can swing that around even against full size middle aged men, and not all women have this, and maybe it’s how causes are born.
because now? now all i can think about is every girl whose breasts are fucking goose honked when they’re trying to have a drunken heart-to-heart with her roommate she admires and loves but needs to talk to, and then what? what if you don’t cut down trees and swing tools and know you’re strong? what if you haven’t read about how your body is YOURS, and there is nothing acceptable about this?
jokes were made about how this group of people i’ve known for a while understood why they call me “mean jean” and the guy i’m into followed him out of the bar and told him what’s up, but that’s all bullshit in the reality that this happens. it just fucking happens, and i am amazed and sad and tired by it all.