I have a t-shirt from Old Navy that says “so red hot” on it, with little hearts inside the letters. I bought it because I liked the pinky-red color (if you haven’t noticed, I like pink) and because it was deeply discounted to $2, since it was leftover from Valentine’s Day. When I bought it, I did a little second guessing about whether the shirt was even appropriate for a 30-something mother of three, but at the end of the day, it’s just a shirt, right? It’s cute and it’s just a shirt.
I was coming out of the Publix today, wearing this shirt, as two guys were walking in. They were probably around 25, looked like the kind of guys who probably have a lot of Korn and Insane Clown Posse on their iPods, were wearing baseball hats, sleeveless shirts, and cutoff jeans, had slightly too long goatees and lots of tattoos, and walked with that swagger those kind of guys often seem to have.
One of the looks at me, coming out of the Publix with my “so red hot” t-shirt and my bags of groceries, kind of shakes his head a little, and says, “No. You’re not.”
I hadn’t said anything to these guys. I had smiled at them a little, because I usually smile at people when I pass them going into or out of a building. I didn’t do anything to invite a comment like this. It was pure, unsolicited meanness.
I know what I am and I know what I look like. I know I don’t look like a supermodel. I’m a tad on the overweight side of things. I’m in my thirties, have three kids, and look it. I am probably a lot more likely to have someone tell me “You look tired” than “You look hot.”
I wasn’t aware that those things were a crime, though. I didn’t know that being those things while wearing a t-shirt with a silly slogan was on par with soliciting an insult. Who on earth raised this man, that he thought it was ok to speak like that to a strange woman, to any woman, to any person? Did someone let him grow up believing that it was his God-given right to insult a woman whose looks don’t meet his idea if “hot” or did he decide that on his own, somewhere along the way? Is he just another product of our woman-objectifying culture*?
I wish I could say I responded wittily or put him in his place or even slapped him across his rude mouth. I didn’t. Instead, I just walked to my car, stung and slightly embarrassed.
*Watch this video if you haven’t seen it before. It’s good.
