Not a Good Friday

I just worked a 12 hour Friday. I'm tired. It's almost midnight. I just wanna go home. Already today, completely unprovoked (at least by me), a woman who lives where I work decided to SCREAM at me when I asked if she wanted a receipt for her rent. She told me she'd come behind the counter and slap me. As I tried to pull my rather hysterical self together, my boss came in and said, "Oh, I guess I'll talk to her." You guess? I spent far too much of my evening shaking and undone. I have a highly visceral reaction to yelling. Don't fucking scream at me. Hell, I'd rather be hit. Come on over here and try it. So I left work and stopped to buy a fucking Vitamin Water because I know I'll want it in the morning. As I walked out of the convenience store, trying to leave my best friend a coherent voicemail, an enormous man came within about two inches of me. Do you know how small that distance is? I'm 5'4 and today, I awkwardly had pigtails because I didn't have time to wash my hair. I don't look intimidating with my puffy vest & stupid hair. To avoid this giant dude, I had to step into one of those little dirt patches that surrounds a tree someone decided should be planted on a fucking sidewalk. And the guy still comes right at me and says, "Excuse me ma'am, can you do me a big favor?" Gets right in my face. I know I didn't hide my irritation. I was pissed before you showed up, fucker. I said firmly, "No, I cannot. I need to get going." I kept walking as he SHOUTED at me, "You know what you need to do?! GAIN SOME FUCKING WEIGHT!" What?! Gain some weight?! Okay, back up, you motherfucker. A, why the fuck are you yelling at me? DO YOU KNOW IT IS THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT? Do you know that's scary? Does the dark mean the same thing to you it does to me? No? B, gain some weight? I'm wearing baggy ass pants so shitheads like you won't fucking talk to me! I DID gain some weight, for your information, so that I could deflect some of this crap in public, so people would fucking leave me alone. And why the fuck do I have to explain how I look to you? You're bigger than me no matter what. You can have whatever you want. You wanna run me down and hurt me? You will. Fuck you. You have no idea how my size effects me. C, is being told to gain weight as bad as being told you wanna assault me? It doesn't fucking matter. Do not tell me how to be, in public or anywhere. Don't physically bully me. Stop yelling at women for no fucking reason! I should not be so shaken up that I have to call my mother, who lives in sunny fucking Florida, and say, "Can you walk me home?" while I blubber and try to process two shouting people in my face in one fucking evening. I should not wonder at what point said dude is gonna come after me (which I did until I reached the subway, about five blocks later). I shouldn't have to plan to have a weapon in the hand the next time I walk outta work, 'cause next time, fucker's gettin maced in front of the 7-Eleven. Fuck you, motherfucker. I'm done. This is my city too. I have a right to walk to the train without being told my physical existence is somehow wrong; I have the right to refuse to "help" some giant man with no manners who wants to step to me in the middle of the goddamn night; and I have the right to not feel fucking insane when I leave a private building or residence. My city too. - Brittany