Slingin' Insults

Leaving through the inner double-doors of the gym I saw a man outside, fiddling to free a hand for opening the door, which he did just as I was coming into the foyer. Having already opened my door and obviously not lacking a free hand, I held the door open for him too. But upon seeing me holding the door, this man almost jumped a foot off the ground to turn and go back outside to hold the door for me. Since I promised myself, years ago, not to stoop to the intelligence level of a slug just to make someone feel more comfortable in their own ignorance, I just kept on holding the door with a big grin on my face. This man became totally flabbergasted and in the two seconds that he swept past me said, "I guess we're playing some role reversal today, huh! Must be leap-year or something." The doors were closed before I could utter so much as a "Schmuck!" He really made me feel like shit for trying to help. Oh well, he was probably just PMSing or something.

This has been only one of three instances when men have gone out of their way to make me feel like a woman(and not at all in a delicious, sultry way) this week. 

On Tuesday evening I was at the grocery store filling two five-gallon water bottles. The first one was complete and in the cart, the second one had just begun filling when an older gentleman with four jugs queued up. His jugs were clean, round and firm, but like most men's jugs, empty. I slid my cart over to make room for him and we started having a conversation about why I don't just have Culligan delivered and how nice the water coolers are these days. We were having a great conversation until my second 5-gallon bottle was finished and as I lifted it to put in my cart he asked, "Where's your Man? Why isn't he here helping you with that?" Feeling extremely comfortable around this man, I simply smirked knowingly and told him my "man" is "at home with the children. We each have our place." I think he understood my slight because he immediately seemed apologetic but it was as if he didn't know why. Well, if he could read this, I would explain. You see, whether or not he saw me as a minority in need of help or disabled in need of help, our conversation never turned to the fact that he was black or that he had an oxygen tank with tubes going to his nose. Although I almost asked about the Jive-Turkey shades he was wearing in the well-lit store, but only because I kinda liked them. Him asking me where my "man" was would be like me asking him which whitey was paying for his water. But, you see, it took me five days to come up with that one because I'm not racist; now if only people could cease being sexist around me, that would be SUPER.

In case you're curious about the third incident of sexism this week. It isn't that impressive; the bagger at the grocery store had to use plastic bags when he couldn't fit my groceries into the SEVEN reusable bags I brought from home because he put four items in each. They were nice and light so as not to strain my delicate self as I lifted them into the car. Then he just announced loudly, rather than asking, that he would help me out to my car. I simply told him I would not need his assistance and thanked him kindly, but upon relaying the story to my husband we decided that maybe "bitch" needs to be the new "kind." I've known plenty of women that would have made that bagger cry for a) not knowing how to bag and b) assuming they needed help. My favorite reaction would have come from a bartender I knew from New York City who would have made a loud reference to a "retawd-sanwich" and stood there re-bagging her groceries correctly while he watched. She could throw an insult at a moron faster than seagulls snatch french fries, but in Kansas, I have to wonder if anyone would understand her.