rule of thump

Today I was walking down the street wearing shorts and within a block two men had slowed down to call out to me. One was up high, in a truck. Yo yo yo! he said, sweeping his arm to show the shape of me. Gee thanks. Second guy riding past on a motorbike, at my eye level. He slowed way way down. Bent his head towards me and said, very slowly, You. Got really. Good. Legs.

Gee thanks.

Reason I was walking down the street in the paralysing heat is I had an appointment at the physiotherapist, my forty-fifth, trying to slowly heal the damage to my right arm from the shoulder where a third man, someone I have no connection with who was sitting drinking and took exception to me, got up and charged at me from behind swinging his motorcycle helmet on its straps. He walloped me like a mace. It was like a cannonball. His blow has shattered the flexibility of my beautiful shoulder possibly forever, second MRI scan this week is not looking good, this was more than a year ago and I am still in pain when I try to comb my hair or play the guitar. Or, you know, uncap a bottle of water.

Gee. Thanks.

On my way home from the physio a man called to me, Hello! Hello! Hello! Hello! Hello! Hello! Hellllllllloooooo! until I had turned the corner to escape him.

This is what it is like living under male rule.