Well, here it is - my first post-Women's History Month post. This poem could speak to some of you who have had similar experiences with men making you feel uncomfortable.

The young lady,
So petite I could see the top of her head
Without standing on my toes.
The saleswoman, arguing,
No, dear, you don’t want that. It’s too large.
The young woman holds the sweater,
At least three sizes too big
For her tiny figure.
The delicate sweep of her large bosom
That announces her presence
As soon as she enters a room.
The saleswoman, pleading, scolding,
You want to show off a figure like that,
Not hide behind sloppy clothes.
I sigh, and glance down
At my own ample bosom
Shielded behind a sweatshirt
Two sizes too large,
Shielded from the unwanted stares
Of unknown men who know
That your bosom exists
Solely for their pleasure.