Individuality: A Dirty Word?

Family jewels

A stroll down the road in the sunshine…Maybe magic, maybe mundane. Now and then a total revelation. I’m surprised how an unimportant detail of my walk down to a friend’s house yesterday has dominated my thoughts…And inspired my latest entry!

So there I was shamblin’ along, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my arms and generally feeling all was well in the world.  I suddenly spotted a group of young lads setting off in a car. My heart dipped a little…I grew up in a small town, often attracting negative attention due to how I dressed and was perceived. It never particularly bothered me – I could have changed the message I put out to the world but had no interest in doing so. However, if you encounter enough bullshit of that ilk you eventually develop a radar for it, which never entirely leaves you. Certain people and situations get your antennae twitching…the car full of little boys is a classic example. I’ve always found their bravery increases directly in proportion with the speed they’re travelling!

I walked by, head up and refusing eye contact as per rule one in the Superfreak Handbook! Suddenly a loud and primal noise somewhere between whooping and howling emitted from the vehicle. Now, gone are the days when I’d have marched over and confronted them over their asshattery.

It never got me anywhere but more angry, though possibly taught me some of my most tried and tested profanity!

I neatly gave them the finger and kept walking.

Suddenly this whiny little-boy voice cut over the music from my MP3 player

(Rumble by Link Wray, in case anyone wondered what I was listening to. If I was reading this written by someone else, I surely would! I have about 5 soundtracks from Quentin Tarrantino movies on my player at the moment…I find they cover pretty much every musical whim of mine!)

“What you telling us to fook off for? Fooking dirty bitch…look at ya!”

To begin with I was absolutely fucking livid. The child shouting at me looked barely old enough to know it was for anything other than pissing over high walls, alone what did or did not constitute dirty.

I’d put the little fecker over my knee, only he’d probably enjoy it!

When the hell did it become OK for children to randomly yell abuse  at adults in the street anyway? My feet wouldn’t have touched the ground if my parents had found out I’d so much as looked askance at an adult…And no, the fact that statement exposes me as an old bat hasn’t escaped my notice!

Following this, I was a bit perplexed…What had caused this juvenile missing link to pick me out as a creature of the night anyway?

I considered what I was wearing, though cursed myself for sinking to that level. I was in a punky zip thru black mini-dress, strappy black flats, hair in a bandana and red 50’s cat-eye shades. Hardly the stuff of strip clubs. Definitely nothing outlandish by my standards…Then again, if I ever feel the need to seek fashion advice from a teenage boy shouting from a car window, my life will surely be taking a downhill turn!

I wondered briefly about my walk…I have a natural wiggle to my hips and a tendency to strut. I am proud of the space I take up in the world and determined to enjoy my body while I am relatively young. I often listen to music when am out and about…With the side effect of making me shake my arse! I can think of far more offensive sights to witness on the street…

  • Mothers smacking and screaming at their children
  • Teenage “Gangstas” with their jeans escaping down to their knees and exposing their choice of underwear
  • Brassy women hellbent on telling the world of their “Babyfather’s” latest exploits under the pretext of having a conversation on the mobile.

All these make me feel faintly nauseated, but I keep my gob shut and walk on by nonetheless.

I even considered whether the half-sleeve adorning my right arm had offended the delicate little flower…My ink occasionally has a strange effect on people, prompting them to stop me in the park and ask how I’ll feel about it in 60 years time and the like. If I happen to get to 95, I would imagine I’ll feel like any other almost centenarian. Cantakerous, confused and cranky as hell! I earned the money which paid for my tattoos, they decorate MY skin and I love every one of them….And that is all any of these helpful social commentators need to know. They ought to stay heedful of the age old advice of keeping their cakehole firmly closed if they have nothing positive to say.

We still live in a society obsessed with fitting into a norm set by someone faceless and nameless. Many people haven’t got a clue what they think or believe so wait to be told. They are fearful of anyone who rejects their flock mentality.

I am definitely not Most People!


I am in my mid 30s, single, very much my own boss and able to dress myself in what I damn well please! Is that what angered the little cherub? Should I not be allowed such freedom? Or does he feel denied it, so desperately trying to fit in with his army of clones?

Eventually I gave up on speculating and put it down to ignorant adults popping out ignorant children. Stupidity is unfortunate, but ignorance is unforgivable. Ignorance is having the option to learn but refusing to. The Chav mentality of being terminally thick and happy as pigs in shit.

Bodies, bare flesh, sex and sexuality are not dirty. Attitudes towards these are what taints them and makes them grubby. My generation did precious little to change that, it seems that neither will the new one. We’re still living in the Victorian Era…Scared shitless of enjoying anything seen as sinful, at it like rabbits behind closed doors. Our generation is as obsessed with judgement as the last one…And we are passing our intolerant attitudes on once again.

People constantly wail and gnash their teeth about the state of modern life. There are no manners these days, no sense of community, no willingness to help others. I’ve yet to witness any noteable attempt to tackle this and make a change though. Dischord and mistrust of those around us suits the culture we live in…Society encourages sneaky, nosy, snide behaviour. Curtains twitch. Tongues wag. All the while children witness and take notes. We all say we’re not going to become our parents, then do it anyway.

And let’s not forget the media, poised to fill in the gaps left after the seed has been planted. I refer you to a gem of an article seen on Return of Kings.

Return of Kings is a blog billed as being “For Masculine Men”…

I have my own description for it, and you may well come to similar conclusions after following the link!

Warning: May cause boiling of the blood!


I suggest we drop the false morality and get busy taking care of our own business.

It takes more than one person to make a difference, it’s true. However, if enough people admitted they were sick and tired of these attitudes the tide would start to turn. I’d wager I’m not the only one…

I look forward to the day when people stop thinking in terms of the typical man/woman and start behaving like decent human beings.