Good evening, you find me in a saucy mood today. A mildly antagonistic mood as well, shall I tell you why?
I went into the store today feeling good about myself. I wore an outfit I like, short flippy skirt, thigh high stockings, and a tight little top under a cardigan.
I did my makeup with a dramatic eye, deep dark red lipstick, and a tinted moisturizer in place of heavy foundation.
I wore my hair up for the first time since I did the blue. My bathroom no longer resembles the sacrificial temple for the Smurfs, but my towels the past few days have varying degrees of tie dye sunburst that would be jarring if the towels were any other color than black.
I wore my favorite black boots with the mild heel and shiny silver spikes around the ankle area. I was the goth beauty I so love to be.
And I felt amazing.
Cut to my entering the loathsome store where all the people test my patience like it’s some sort of sport. I was having a tolerable shopping experience, on my phone more often than not, but who isn’t these days. When I was stopped by two women. They were buttoned up in pastels and denim, everything from the neck down covered. I’m all for modesty, it’s a cultural thing for some, religious for others, but a personal choice for all. I personally don’t give a flaming fuck for modesty and as long as I’m comfortable, it’s my business how much or how little I wear. What I take exception to, is being told I must do something, anything, by any mere mortals.
Some in the back already know what’s coming. They began to approach me, I walked away, they tried again, I sidestepped again.
And then in the wine and beer aisle they caught me.
I was treated to a personalized sermon, complete with supposed Bible verses I didn’t listen to, and a battery of inane questions about what my father would think.
As he complimented my hair and makeup on the way out? Yeah think he’s not bothered. Then the elder of the two asked why I should want to be “leading our brothers in Christ unto sinful thoughts?”
I like Christ, he hung out with society’s outcasts. Cared for the suffering, the weak, and took a whip into the temple when capitalism invaded it. Alright behaviors in my book. But these people using his name to try and shame me?
Fair game.
I grinned with my perfectly made up face, widened my eyes a bit more to unsettling rather than annoyed. I changed my posture to stand fully over these two, neither had anywhere near my height.
I expressed my thought that perhaps if they taught their boys to treat women as people instead of property, unless they expressly request such, maybe they’d not need to worry about what I wear, or what their men are thinking about seeing me. Perhaps I could give them a few tips for training their men better.
They looked as if I’d vomited pea soup on them as I left. But I was feeling too good not to smile genuinely as I made it to checkout.
Some days, we just have to embrace the mischief.
