Of all the things called out to me by common street vermin whilst enjoying my daily commute via public transit, alone, I might add, these are never among them:

  • You fucking dyke (!!!)
  • Stupid lesbian bitch
  • Burn in hell

However, it's possible that something in my fancy new haircut just screams THE GAY, because today all of these were screamed at me when I snapped "F U C K  O F F" politely thwarted somebody's advances to "massage me" on my way home today. I was thrilled! Well, aside from the fact that he chased me around the block to scream these things at me, I was thrilled! Me?! A dyke?! A fucking dyke, no less! Why, sir, thank you for noticing! Indeed, thank you kindly. Except, you know, really, just shove off.

Lest one of my self-defense comrades read this and sulk with disapproval, I fell into step with two older women pushing a stroller, and made a mental note that the baby store was closed and I'd have to either hop a fence into the school or run across the street into a boutique for safety's sake, if necessary (ooh, shopping).

I came home extremely giddy about the homophobic remarks, also about the massive beer stein I brought home from an epic Oktoberfest party at work, and while that sounds ridiculous if not self-hating, let me remind you of one small thing:


This was a first! I excitedly told the tomboy all about it. She teased me about while she took these photos. Did you get called a lesbian bitch today? Giggle. Did someone say you're a fucking dyke? Ooh! Me! I did, I did! You can tell because I'm cracking up in all these photos.

Black Pant: Silence & Noise Black Top with gold knotted chain detail: Banana Republic Black Boots: Dolce Vita for Target Crossbody Satchel: Relic Navy Vest: H&M Hair: Elevation Salon (Paul)

Anyway, the REAL burning question is: Doesn't this bike look just my size?