When I say “Grrr..” I mean it. The other day, I had gone shopping for stuff in the New Market Area, so Ma called up and asked me to pick up some lingerie for her. OK, said I, I will. And so, the obedient daughter trooped in to one of the only shops in New Market which sells her brand of lingerie, and asked for the stuff. My mum being quite a few kilos heavier than I am, obviously wears a size larger than I do. And when I walk in to a shop and ask for a size which is oh-so-obviously not MINE, I do not expect the leery old man standing at the counter to actually look me up and down, and tell me, in the silkiest of tones, that he does not think that it would fit me.
I was speechless. In fact, I think I stood for some time without saying anything, while the man simply stood and smiled. Yes, smiled. And in a distinctly lecherous manner that left me feeling disgusted. What audacity!! What bloody nerve! After recovering my senses and my power of speech, I icily asked for the stuff again (pretending to ignore the looks, smiles and titters of the rest of the sales-men in the shop) and, having finally got it, left.
This is easily the most disgusting thing that happens to us women. Yes, we do get felt up in all modes of public transport (to be felt up in an auto is the worst of all). But to just stand there, and know for a fact that the middle-aged (or old) man is undressing you in his mind... never mind the fact that you may be dressed “modestly” in your regulation jeans-and-kurta... this absolutely takes the cake.
Required : Female staff at ALL shops selling items for women.