I'm 90% certain of this.
So…yet again, I’m surrounded by knuckle dragging morons who insist on telling me stupid crap. Maybe there is something about my face that makes them think that I give two sh*ts about whatever they’re flappin’ their yaps about, but whatever it is needs to change.
For sometime now I’ve had Latino men, mostly at work and driving past me in gardener trucks, tell me how much they love a girl with a “little extra.” Actually, I have a nick name from the guys at work, Chichona. Don’t know what that means? It’s Spanish for big titty bitch. Charming.
My favorite manager, a man and a total babe, didn’t take too kindly to this and told those skeeze bags that if he heard them calling me that again, he’d fire them. Awesome right? Yea, for a few weeks…until he quit. Eff!
The day after he left, one of the bussers approached me to say, “Now that Mr. X is gone, who’s going to protect you now, Chichona?”
I’m screwed.
There’s also a new dude that works at the front desk my of gym. All the checker inner guys at 24 know me because I’m one of the only people who works out at midnight, so I introduced myself. New guy is African American and from New Orleans. (I’m not being racist, this knowledge is important for the rest of the story.) He told me, “Girl, you remind me of Khole Kardashian, you’re healthy.”
I don’t think Khole is fat, but I am well aware that the majority of people do, and since I’m an epically pale, white girl, he should know that, in my community, that is NOT a compliment.
I asked him if he was calling me fat and he said, “Naw girl, if you was fat, I’d say you were real healthy.”
Because that makes it better, right?
If this kind of crap keeps happening to me, I’m pretty sure I’m going to snap and have a stroke before I even hit thirty years old.
So, to the dumb asses that continue to talk to me, I say:
Was that too many words for you? Fair enough. How about this:
If that wasn’t clear enough, how about this:
laurensemar.com 