Fat, not Deaf. Saturday 14th July

***Warning: There are swear words in this post. And a vile little woman that may make you mad. Oh, and it's a bit I said / she said, but you'll see why***

Still a bit pissed off from my visit to the Doctors on Friday, Mr B suggested that we have a Date Night on Saturday. We decided we'd head into town at about 4, do a quick bit of shopping and then go for food and the cinema.

It should be said that I HATE shopping in town on a Saturday, and it was only the fact that we were going later in the day, and the promise of food and the flicks, that persuaded me to go.

Whilst Mr B went into one shop, I decided to pop into New Look as they had a sale and I need some shoes for the million weddings I'm going to this September.

I had a quick mooch round, couldn't find anything, so decided to leave. I was walking down the main aisle of the shop and there was a girl sat on some seats to the right of me, trying on shoes. In front of her were all of her shopping bags. In front of the shopping bags was her mother. Behind her mother was a manequin, or some other tat that the shop had decided to look good.

"Excuse me", I said to the woman, who shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Assuming that she either hadn't heard me or hadn't realised I was talking to her I said, "Sorry, excuse me", at which point she shuffled forward a tiny bit.

I realised that actually, she had heard me, both times. She was just rude. So I walked past her and, because there was no room, bumped into her, which made her sigh and tut.

"I did say excuse me," I said apologetically.

"Well it's not my fault where they put the chairs", she snapped.

"No, it's not, but you could have moved to the side" I said, pointing to the massive space either side of her shopping bags.

"I did move", she replied.

"You shuffled half a centimetre forward, which wasn't really helpful!"

"I don't want my daughter* to get trampled", she said.

"Your daughter isn't going to get trampled", I said, "Don't be so ridiculous". And with a roll of my eyes and a shake of my head, I turned and walked away.

When I was a good 4 or 5 paces away, I heard "I'm surprised you know what half a centimetre is, given the size of you".

For a split second, I considered being the better person and walking away. But that's not really me.

As I stormed back to her, I wasn't sure what I was going to do - hit her, push her over, or just shout at her.

I went with the latter.

"Excuse me! Were you actually just rude enough to make a comment about my size!?"

She looked at me and said "No, I was talking about Jessica's shoes, actually." And gave me a look that said I know what I said, you know what I said, but I'm not going to admit it, and what are you going to do?

"Don't fucking lie!" I said

At this point, Jessica says, "She was, actually", with so little conviction it was laughable.

I turned back to her mother and said "You're a vile little woman. And you can be assured that I am half. A. Centimetre away from punching you in the face! You are so FUCKING rude!"

I turned, and marched out of the shop because I was so angry I actually didn't know what I was going to do. Mr B was outside of the shop waiting for me, but by the time I got to him I was so angry I actually couldn't speak. I told him we needed to go before I went back in their and "punched her in the fucking head" and stormed off through the shopping centre.

It took me a good 5 minutes to calm down enough to be able to tell him what had happened.

Not only was I angry about what she'd actually said, I was angry that she'd said it behind my back and didn't even admit it when I confronted her.

I was angry that she thought that because I was fat, I was also deaf. And stupid enough to believe that she was talking about the shoes.

Angry that she thought she had any right to say something like that to anyone

And angry that I didn't hit her. That would've been much more satisfying.

Had she been some Amazonian MILF, I may well have thought "fair play, she's hot". In fact, I had to LOOK DOWN AT HER to look her in the eye. Me, at 5ft 4, was looking down at this vile little hobbit woman.

I ended up crying at dinner about the whole incident.

It's the first time I've experienced such a horrible person. Don't get me wrong, I was bullied while I was growing up, and I dealt with them in much the same way I dealt with this woman - I was never one to shy away from name calling, and often someone did it once and never again.

But I've never experienced it as an adult. From another adult. Who was definitely old enough to know better. I still can't believe anyone could be so mean and nasty. She doesn't know me. She doesn't know anything about me or my situation.

And even if she did, it wouldn't make it right.

Vile little woman.

*Valid come back, if your daughter is tiny and 4. Her daughter was at least 17 and trying on hooker heels. No one was going to miss her.