through no fault (and certainly no preference) of my own, i'm busty. between the difficulty in finding clothes and the almost constant back pain, it's a fact that's hard to get around.however, concerned strangers seem to worry that i might forget, and for a moment define my sense of self from some other aspect of my person. so at least once,every single day, some street samaritan points it outto me.
i've heard an amazing range of reminders- from the stunningly uncreative 'you got big titties' and its many many variants, to (twice) someone actually walking up and grabbing them- one of those a-businessman type, at 8:30 in the morning, on a busy 23rd and Lex. one of the grossest was an oldish man with a single dead-cat-like dread hanging off the back of his balding head, sitting on a folding chair on the sidewalk smoking a joint, who looked at me as i walked by and said, 'heh, heh- got milk?'
a couple of times i've gotten really, really angry. when i have, i've fought fire with fire. i went up to him and yelled, loud as i could, right in his face, 'THAT'S A REALLY GOOD WAY TO GET KICKED IN THE HEAD'. and maybe a little etc. i'm sure i looked like a lunatic on the street, but it worked- one guy actually ran away from me, saying 'you crazy bitch'-and it felt great, and hilarious, every time.
Written by Rosemary
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