The hot beams of summer struck my face as I happily strolled to the train that sunny Thursday morning, wearing my new baby blue skirt with little yellow flowers to cool down from the oppressive heat. However, my glowing smile quickly faded as I caught an old man staring at my thighs. My stomach suddenly rumbled with a discomfort so sickening I wanted to throw up. My sweaty hands pulled down my skirt hastily, trying to cover up as much skin as possible. I shifted my eyes, hoping to ignore him, even as his low voice grumbled, calling my young body sexy. I was 13. When I was 14, a speeding car rolled down its window so a man inside could call me a skank. When I was 15, tears rolled down my face after a sweaty, glittery hand reached up my skirt at a music festival.
Read MoreThe hot beams of summer struck my face as I happily strolled to the train that sunny Thursday morning, wearing my new baby blue skirt with little yellow flowers to cool down from the oppressive heat. However, my glowing smile quickly faded as I caught an old man staring at my thighs. My stomach suddenly rumbled with a discomfort so sickening I wanted to throw up.
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