#thelucklessmonster

it wasn't my first time, but i can count with my two hands how many times i've worn shorts outside.

it was hot. humid. and i wanted to cool myself down.

i felt nice, sexy i might add, and i could feel my body temperature cooling a bit.

it was an amazing start for the day.

that is, until i rode a jeepney and the driver kept looking at my legs. yes, i sat in front, next to manong, and he kept glancing down. i thought he might be looking at something else, the stick shift, the old, rusty floor of his jeepney.

but he was looking at my legs.

and i was so mad at myself for making up reasons for him, as to why he was looking at me.

yes, manong, i see you. i see you looking, and i see you smile, and smirk, i see your eyes twinkle, but not in the light and innocent kind; i see your eyes twinkle, and your sight darken at the same time.

yes, manong, i hear you. i can hear you, and understand how you were talking in ilocano with another manong from another jeepney, saying how i was 'nagpintas'.

yes, manong, i feel you. i feel you wanting to inch closer and closer, gradually, not enough to graze my skin with your knuckles, but enough for you to use your imagination.

you might ask why i didn't move to another jeepney.

or even just move a little farther away from him.

but i froze.

i froze knowing that a single movement might aggravate another response from him.

i froze thinking that me pulling down my shorts for better coverage might beckon him to talk to me.

i froze knowing that doing something to protect myself might be pleasurable for him; knowing that i know what he was doing or was trying to do, that his glance and his snickers and his smirk has affected me.

and from the moment i sat near manong, right down to leaving his jeepney and scurrying down the sidewalk, i can feel him staring. and standing up i know it wasn't just my legs that he was looking at - he was looking at every piece of flesh he could see, thinking god knows what. i felt betrayed.

i felt betrayed that until now, we live in a society wherein how a woman dresses is an open discussion for everyone.

i felt betrayed that my clothes and my body is an open target, whether i'm in shorts or in pants, hell, even if i choose to be naked for my own.

i felt betrayed, and saddened, and mad, that women are still being preyed on, for choices that they made for their own selves, and not for other people to comment on.

so to everyone, who tried (or dares to try) to reduce women into just a plaything, a scenery in your own naked wonderland,