Two Encounters.

ENCOUNTER 1:

Some boys - I'm not good with ages; mid/late teens at a rough guess - walking past nudged one another and sniggered as they walked past me. Sadly, that is not uncommon; it happens with depressing frequency (though in true cowardly fashion, of course only when there are several of them against the one of me), and oftentimes the sniggers are accompanied by some slur or other directed at my weight.
     So, having seen them coming and noted the familiar smirks and body language, I donned my Impassive Face and inwardly braced myself for whatever might be about to be either said or yelled. But this time, rather than some version or other of "fattie!" what I got was "dyke!"
     ...I blinked. That was unusual. I hadn't been called that before. "LESbian", certainly - screamed from a passing car (hence the first part of the word being in capitals, as it was louder) and aimed at myself and Best Friend 2 as we walked along the pavement arm-in-arm - but never "dyke".
     A split second later, I heard a sigh, and turning my head, I realized that their sniggers and scorn had - just this once - not been directed at me, but at someone else. She was very tall, and very thin, dressed in a pale shirt, dark blue leggings and big clumpy boots. Her skin was very pale, and her blond hair - what there was of it - was very, very short and combed back.
     She glared after them over her shoulder, then glanced over at me and rolled her eyes.

"I'm not," she confided, testily, one woman to another; "but pricks like that make me wish I was".

Well, yes.
     Quite.

ENCOUNTER 2:

Reader(s), after all this time, I didn't think it likely that I would see them again, but today I did.
     Remember this lady?
 http://onefatgirlandherthoughts.blogspot.co.uk/2015/09/yet-another-overheard-conversation.html

Well, today, I saw her again. And this time, I spoke to her.
     She was hobbling along, clinging to her long-suffering son's arm, wittering away about what she was going to make him for lunch when they got back - from the sound of it, there were a lot of choices and she was switching back and forth between them - while he walked stoically beside her with that same look of practiced patience on his face.
     We reached the escalator at the same time, and as per usual, I gestured that they should get on ahead of me, given the ongoing problem my brain has with regards to getting on which can sometimes be time consuming. This caused Crisp Lady - as I have called her in my head ever since that fateful day - to beam at me.

"Why thank you, my dear", she said, solicitously

"You're welcome", I replied.

I managed to put my foot down after letting just two steps pass by, and as I left the escalator a few seconds later, I could hear Crisp Lady's voice as she carried on talking to her son in a soft yet unstoppable wave of words.
     A lovely young lady that, she was saying...manners are hard to come by these days, not many have them now...it wasn't the same in her day; people had respect then...but a lovely young lady; his brother Keith would do well to find a girl like that...a person couldn't play the lad forever, he should settle down...and she looked nice; a nice girl with good hips, after all you need good hips to have children...speaking of children; when were him and Loraine going to start...they weren't getting any younger...were they trying?...they needed to be trying...what kind of underpants did he wear? Because apparently that could make a big difference...

We separated at the end of the street before I heard what, if anything, the poor boy said in response to (any of) that.
     As before, I was sorry to see them go.
     And worse, this time, as I was left in suspense.

...what kind of underpants DOES he wear...?

Alice x