Dear sir;
As I was walking into the bank yesterday, you for some reason you felt the need to say, "Damn, if I tried to wear that, I'd be arrested" in regards to my clothing. A tank top, flip flops and shorts with my hair pulled back. Nothing scandalous, no crop top, no short shorts. Just normal, ninety degree weather clothing.
As I walked past you, I could feel your eyes on my backside, staring at it, in my light clothing. I have never felt so uncomfortable in my life. To have a complete, random stranger walk by me and comment on my clothing just because it's hot, in whatever sense of the term you'd like to take it.
Let me tell you why I was wearing these clothes.
For one, it's ninety degrees out in this wonderful region. It's hot. You're wearing shorts too. You get it.
Number two: I worked from 5:30 last night to 5:30 this morning on an ambulance, in full uniform. Warm socks, heavy boots laced tight, thick pants, white undershirt, black uniform shirt, hair tied back out of my face. I lifted huge patients with just me and my partner, I sweated my ass off working fast and responding in to the hospital with a stroke. I responded to the projects, to a woman calling for an ambulance, to find no one. Five minutes later, woman calls back at a different address in the projects, saying she's been stabbed. I worked that by myself. I dealt with people without legitimate emergencies, but were good fakers so we had to go with it. I didn't eat until 3:00 in the morning, ten hours into my shift. I went to three different hospitals, which each had a minimum of two stretchers ahead of me in line upon arrival. I sat in an ambulance when I wasn't working, posted at the most boring of places where there's nothing to do ever, let alone in the wee hours of the night.
Sir, while you were sleeping in your nice, cool house last night, I was out working my ass off in the city with sweat dripping down my legs at all times. I didn't get many breaks. Not for one second did I have the chance to stop and think about something other than work. While you were at home asleep, I was out saving people's lives.
If you were out doing that last night for twelve straight hours, you'd want to wear a tank top too.
And I'm back in at 6:30 tonight.
Next time you feel the need to comment on someone's not inappropriate dress, think twice. You don't know their story. Nevermind the psychosocial issues with the comment.
I'm not a feminist, but I still don't appreciate the unnecessary comments.
Sincerely,
I can't help the heat, leave me alone
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