Back in December, a lady at the grocery store called me the town whore based solely on what I was wearing. Good times, good times.
Anyways, the other day, an older gentleman made my day by commenting on my outfit. I wish the old mean lady had been there. Yes, I totally hold grudges forever.
My mom and I were at lunch, and a group of older gentlemen walked by us on their way out. The last one stopped to talk to us.
Older Gentleman: I just wanted to tell you how nice it is to sit across from a young lady who is dressed appropriately and modestly. Thank you. You’re beautiful. Enjoy your lunch!
I was in an ankle-length skirt and white sleeveless top. If you’re dressed in anything else, he’s calling you a “whore.” Sorry about your luck.
I’ll be wearing that outfit every time I go to the grocery store now. Then, when I see the mean old lady, I can get all up in her face, look at her outfit and then look at mine, and be like, “Who’s the townwhore now, biatch?”
That is my totally 100% mature plan.
Anyways, after that compliment, the conversation took an interesting turn.
Thoughtsy’s Mom: Thank goodness he didn’t see what you were wearing when we picked you up from the airport the other day. I could see your bra.
Yes, that’s right. My mom told me I dressed like a whore. Sigh….
In my defense, what started out as a sundress, after 15+ hours in airports and squirming on planes had seriously stretched out and was very revealing.
Favorite Comments From Last Post: