So there I was the other day, walking pass a building site of sorts when I heard a whistle and a “ello darling”. I stopped mid step in a bit of shock, okay, sooo was that for me? As believe me, it has been a while since that has happened! After a quick look round and realising that I was the only “darling” in the area I assumed that it was for me.
So did the inner feminist rear her ugly head with rage, “how dare they, do they think I am some sort of object, for them to leer at”? Arh, no, I gave a quick acknowledgment and kept walking, with a slight spring in my step it should be noted.
Gone are the days where this would have bothered me, where I would have either ignored it or the inner feminist would have said something back to them. Hell I will take any compliments (okay so it is a borderline compliment I do admit) I can get these days. Especially, as next week sees me on the wrong side of 40. There is only so long you can tell people that you have just turned 40, that’s 364 days in case you are wondering.
I have posted before how I enjoyed male company and the general banter that went with it while I was working. It gives you a bit of an ego boost, nothing wrong with feeling appreciated by the opposite sex I say. It’s all well and good getting compliments from Mr P but after 17 years together it is kind of a given. So if a couple of hairy arsed builders want to give me a whistle and a shout out then so be it, I won’t mind. Life is too short to worry about whether it is demeaning or not.
Of course it would have totally made by day if it had come from a couple of half naked bronzed demi gods instead of two paunch bellied middle aged blokes. But then, as my mum says, beggars can’t be choosers...