I’m standing in the express line at WalMart. No, I normally don’t shop there, but I’m in the middle of a construction project in the lone rental I own, and I came in looking for a Leviton GFI outlet that I haven’t been able to find locally anywhere else. I end up with a pre-cooked chicken because I’ve been working for ten hours straight, and I’m too tired to cook dinner for my husband who is at home with his leg in a cast. I’m wearing my work clothes, jeans and a hot pink t-shirt that happens to be from the 2004 March for Women’s Lives in Washington D.C. The sponsor is Planned Parenthood.
So, the white guy ahead of me looks at my paint-stained shirt and says “So, you’re for killing babies?”
I have been working all day, going on my third week of it, I'm sweaty and covered with drywall mud and paint and damn tired. Normally, I’m not the confrontational type. Well, maybe that isn’t exactly true. Sometimes I call it as I see it. And what I see right now pisses me off.
So I tell him, “Hey, (asshole, I don’t say it, but it was right on the tip of my tongue) when I see you protesting out in front of the Pentagon, which commissions billions of taxpayer dollars to manufacture weapons specifically designed to kill real living people, maybe I’ll listen to what you have to say. Until then, you’re opinion means nothing to me.”
We're looking at each other straight in the eyes, but he has no response.
All I want to do is get home, but at this point, I’m steaming mad.
Who are these people? Well, they’re my neighbors who have the gall to think they have the right to interfere in my most private and intimate decisions. Honestly, like I’d ever consult with this asshole in anything to do with my life. I wouldn’t let him borrow my car to drive around the block, let alone decide how many children I have.
Sometimes, like today, I’m thankful that I have resources and that my husband and I, as well as our daughter, can relocate to secular Europe if need be. And believe me, it is more than a passing fancy. BTW, I live in Bart Stupak’s district. It’s composed of many liberal university people and a whole bunch of self-righteous assholes.
Just venting on a Sunday evening.