That guy didnít look at me.
No, no, you donít understand. They always look. Doesnít matter if Iím in a baggy sweatshirt with curlers in my hair. They look.
Until I glare at them. Or tell them where to go. And even then sometimes, theyíll just laugh like itís a big joke. And then go right on staring, getting themselves an eyeful.
Oh, itís not like I let Ďem get away with it. Donít think that. But the point is, Iím the one who tells them to quit it. Iím the one who calls time out.
Not them. Never them......