Me, Charming the Unsuitable. Again.

So I was driving back from KY yesterday (and yes, I do feel like I need my own mile marker on I-75) in my new thrift store shirt. It's a Fang one, chocolate brown with the words SPICY in orange sequins on the front. Yeah, it might be a bit young but I only had to pay the child's tee price for it (that's $1.50 for those of you keeping track at home) and I am still enjoying my recentish weight loss enough to like the way the snug shirts look. Plus, "Tight Tee Shirt" is my declared summer song. But after the third or fourth rest stop (yeah, it was one of THOSE drives) when the senior citizen WITH A WALLEYE leered at me and said, in what I assume he thought was a rogueish voice, "Is spicy really your name? Heh, heh (cough)" I wished I had worn something else. For pete's sake I was going for sassy not stripper on a day off. (Like that would ever be a likely mistake.) After all, the rest of the line from the song is "tight tee shirt/on a real sweet girl".

But I guess I can't bitch too loudly. I'm feminist enough to think men should treat women respectfully no matter what they wear, even if that's nothing at all, but practical enough not to wave a cape at a bull. You don't wear a shirt with sequins if you don't want attention. I guess it just wasn't the attention I craved.