So yeah, blah-blah-blah, feeling good about myself and all that. But perhaps more importantly my ungirlishness acts as a jackass filter. Never has that fact been more apparent to me than now, when I am inching ever closer to the peak of my girlish potential. For in the past few months the blowhards have begun to flock anew, perhaps hoping to nest in my freshly sugared armpits or bask in the glow of my fake-sun-kissed smile. And only now do I realize how very much I dislike their attentions.

Perhaps the most egregious episode of leering assholery occurred during my grandmother's recent illness. My mother and I, exhausted from a long day at the hospital, decided to go to a restaurant for dinner. As I tried to focus on our conversation, I couldn't help but notice a man at the table behind us. The reason I noticed him? Because he was unabashedly staring at me. Worse, after about ten minutes, he said something to his table mate, whose back was turned to me. Said table mate then proceeded to turn around in his seat and also stare at me.

This was infuriating in many different ways. First of all, I was clearly out to dinner with my mother. Furthermore, for the love of peanut butter, I was eating. I'm not saying I'm Queen Elizabeth or anything, but doesn't everyone deserve a little respect when shoveling food into their mouth?

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