Lately I have been away visiting, unexpectedly of course.

The fun part about visiting is I get to try out new local, organic, free-trade coffee houses. This makes me exceptionally happy!

I do my best to keep the coffee experience as close as possible to what I have at home for the sole purpose of making sure I don’t climb the walls.

See my legs are a little like two pets. When they don’t get walked they get hyper-active, naughty and little mouthy.

So this walking thing keeps them in line and besides it gives me a chance to see the community even if the interaction includes someone yelling in my face, like the man on his racing bike, muttering loud enough that I can hear above my music, “Gorgeous, just gorgeous.”

There was a squeal of a tire and a thump, thump behind me. I didn’t turn around. I can only image behind me was a human pretzel entwined in metal.

I do not fantasize that it is only I who attracts unwanted attention, nor do I delude myself into thinking I am a super model, flawlessly air brushed every time I step out of the shower. It may be possible to airbrush the illusion of ample cleavage and to rid the legs that end at the navel of hereditary cellulite and slim the booty to nothing but honestly who has the time and who cares?

You see it is not just me who is accosted while out on strolls, minding my own business.

It is in fact all women. We all have stories. There is no discrimination to age, shape, size, long legs, short legs, curvy, straight, short, tall, well endowed or flat as a board.

I had an argument with a man a few years ago. He was complaining that women think they’re “all-that”. I am paraphrasing but he must have said something like the following:

“All women just think they are hot, sexy and too good for guys.”

Actually most women think the following:

“Crap I am unattractive, this dress is sooo unflattering, look it’s showing my cellulite *gasp* I promise myself to bike a little harder in next week’s spin class and maybe my female friends will compliment me on my supple smooth skin and be jealous. Oh and by the way all men think they are hot, sexy, God’s gift to women and too good for us!”

Take that bucko LOL. That is how I may have responded but I admit my memory is a little fuzzy. I do remember however being distracted by his enormous ego :).

This whole yelling and telling complete strangers how hot and darn amazing they look isn’t helping with the argument of how men think women organically feel about themselves. I mean it’s no wonder we now have heads the size of giant, country fair winning Watermelon’s!

Right ladies?!?!

Yell at us indiscriminately enough times and we’ll accept that we are purrrfect for every and any man and we’ll continue to work on that stubborn cellulite for our fellow female friends only. 🙂

Of all the times I’ve been creepily yelled at or followed; from the weirdo wearing a cow-plop hat strattling his white scooter pushing with his legs three feet behind me to the man who chased me down the road yelling for me to stop to talk?!?!?! (Seriously has this ever actually worked?), my all time favourite experience and yes I accept this is weird that there is a favourite! but there is one.

It was the man on the bike with a basket and a bell.

He was leisurely biking towards me, weaving all over the path, I am guessing enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. He was pedalling an old bike with a rusted basket on the front and a bike bell on the right handlebar.

As he got closer he started dinging his little bell to get my attention. I ignored him.

When he got within earshot he said,

“You look great, you really do.”

When I smirked at him and gave him the “screw off” look clutching my illegal mace and anticipating the typical negative reaction of “b*tch”, he instead slowed down his bike stopped and quietly said, “I really meant it, I am not looking for an acknowledged approval, I just wanted to let you know that you look nice.”

And with that he pedalled away.

Maybe it was his soft eyes or how he said it – I didn’t feel verbally violated and if he had of turned around his bike and asked me out for coffee I might have just put away the mace and said “Sure.”

Ya, we’re complicated 🙂