I Don't Work For You
|I was walking to my car from the Saturday farmer’s market, wearing sweat pants. There was a man standing in his garden, and he stopped what he was doing, stood up, and turned completely around to watch me walk across the street.|
He said, “Mmm…. Work that pretty ass. Work it.”
When I turned to shoot a fierce look at him, he gave me a huge smile, as if that was the most original “compliment” I’d ever heard.
I have just been sick for the past three months. I definitely wasn’t working anything. I couldn’t get the image of his stupid face out of my head for the rest of the day. GRRRR!!!