The Month of Not Giving a F#ck

What a week, to say the least... in the span of 4 days, here's (some of) what went down: - Went to Urgent Care and was diagnosed with an infection, and got prescribed antibiotics for said infection - Had a severe reaction to said antibiotics (I won't disgust you with the details, but it was certainly a long 24 hours) - Surprise... I didn't need the antibiotics after all! The test came back negative. Super. Something else noteworthy happened today, but it seemed important enough to me that I didn't want to just add it to the bulleted list. In one of my previous posts, I briefly described an experience I had with a gentleman following me at night, and almost successfully assaulting me before my (male) partner intervened.  I remember feeling very intimidated by this man under the cover of night. He had a bit of an odd look to him, but very distinctive... his black-with-white-trim hoodie is was still fresh in my mind. So when I, standing at the intersection of S

Day One- 9/19/17 Well, my month has gotten off to an interesting start. A part of me expected that any sort of confrontation with anyone would be far off from day one... that it would just be too unlucky to actually have to engage in the not-giving-of-f#cks so close to the start of my experiment. As one might guess from the above phrasing, I was wrong. As I made my walk in to downtown this morning, I passed the local beverage redemption center, and lo and behold- to my absolute delight! (not ) - there was the older man who had so kindly occupied my previous week's lunch break with his inappropriate comments and winking.  To my (kind of?) surprise, he smiled at me and loudly asked: "How are you doin' this morning, sweetie?" I then, very much against my initial urge to just smile and keep walking, kept my face fixed firm in an obvious frown, looked him dead in the eye to convey this not-happiness, and continued walking on my path. &q

As a 18 year old woman working with the public, I am no stranger to being reminded of the daily realities of what it means to be a woman in this world. My real, crude awakening began long after the catcalls first did; I remember being 12 and walking down the street in Randolph, Vermont, of all places, when my first encounter with a middle aged man yelling something obscene about my body would occur; this would not be the final time, nor even close to the most upsetting experience. No, the real, crude awakening, AKA the series of bad events spanning from May of this year, to today, began on a late spring evening, while I was working behind the counter at Subway, my former employer. I was the only employee working at the counter at the time, and it was already dark out. It must have been after 8 PM, because I was beginning to close down the shop. I remember seeing a younger man, probably in his 20s, that I recognized as a previous customer, walking by the store with two friends of