Tuesday, April 10, 2007

tunnel of love

every glorious morning i have to walk down this block that’s under construction. you know how it is: scaffolding overhead, those blue particleboard walls with “post no bills” spray-painted in yellow every twenty feet, random bits of the sidewalk torn up, one of those big cement churning trucks, etc etc. this maze of construction is one city-block long and of course has been going on for forever, with no end in sight. and like clockwork every morning, at 9:45 when I walk by, all the construction workers must greet me. every morning. sometimes they just check out my ass while I pass them by, shamelessly craning their heads as I walk past them, making no attempts at subtly or refinement. sometimes they comment on my ass. sometimes they notice that I am fairly well-endowed in the chest area, and remark on my “rack.” thank god they said something because had they not mentioned it I might not have known that I do in fact have great tits. seriously, it never would have occurred to me that having a small waist coupled with large breasts would be considered attractive to the opposite sex. thank you construction workers. thank you for opening up my eyes.

I'm sure that watching me walk down the street in the morning sipping my herbal tea and listening to my iPod would really be the highlight of anyone’s day, but you would think that after several months one might build up some sort of immunity to me and grow tired of ogling me and/or verbally sexually harassing me. apparently, you would be wrong in thinking this.

1 comment:

Jen said...

GOD. i hate that. and it's not just construction workers. i find that as a woman of certain qualities, walking down *any* sidewalk, anywhere, and passing by any kind of male is bound to elicit some sort of unwanted come-on. my saving grace is my noise-blocking earbuds, because then, even if i can tell they're leering, i don't have to hear what they say. the best is the earbud/sunglass combo, so that you can also be sure to avoid any uninentional eye contact -- which is the kiss of death. sigh.