As I was crossing the parking lot back to my car, I passed 3 older women. Right after I passed them, I heard…
Old Lady: Town whore.
My thoughts: Wow, she sounds pissed off. Is there going to be an old lady smack down?
I kept walking.
Old Lady: ::even louder:: Town whore!
My thoughts: Uhhh…is she talking about me?
What I Wish I’d Said: Takes one to know one!
I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure she was talking about me. What the….
I just ignored them because there were 3 of them…and they were bigger than me and had weapons. One of them had a cane, and all I had was a cup of chicken noodle soup.
How rude. Is my sweater dress a little short? Probably. But my ass isn’t hanging out. It passed the fingertip test.
Or maybe it was the boots? Is it because they’re knee high? Because they have ties in the back? I always thought they were pirate-like.
Maybe it was my makeup. I was only wearing mascara, but I did layer it on pretty thick. Two coats.
So there you have it: The new definition of “whore” is having sex with 1 person for the past 4.5 years.
Since when does someone’s clothing reflect their sexual actions? I suppose if I had been raped while wearing it, I would have been asking for it, too.
Grrrr…why are people so flippin’ mean? If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.
What should I have said? Obviously, I need more practice with comebacks.
Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I’ve got a ring but is there a Give-The-Husband-The-Cold-Shoulder-Till-He-Unloads-The-Dishwasher-Day?”—Tori Nelson