It’s whenever I leave the house. I seem to have been born with a magnate for the entitled. I am not pretty, and I am overweight. So of course there is at least one person who feels the need to tell me these things. Or that I would be prettier if I lost some weight. Or that I am a c**t. Or, in one most recent case, a drunk guy at a bus stop told every one waiting that my tattoo must mean I tried to kill myself (after telling him that it had personal meaning).
I used to get men yell out car windows at me to “walk faster!”, “move that ass!”
Since I moved, I have copped considerably less, but it is still when ever I go out. There is always at least one person who insists on staring, commenting to their mates, or commenting to me how I shouldn’t wear something or that I need to lose weight. Or, in the case of one “friend” that I would need extensive plastic surgery to ever be attractive enough to find even a “shitty husband”
I have had an acute anxiety and panic disorder for life, and people wonder why I don’t want to leave the house.
– Anonymous
Location: Brisbane, Australia
