running in my shorts and tank top on the water, it's a little late but the sun doesn't hurt at all because there is a cool breeze. despite the young and strong man running next to me, i get a lot of looks. fishermen, random guys who happen to walk by the water early morning. mostly older. doug tells me i get checked out a lot. i tell him it's because turkish men are perverted. i almost tell him i would get checked out the same way even if i was 13 but i'd rather concentrate on my breathing. the point is to stop thinking, and go with the flow but i find myself thinking how i can tell off one of these guys so that he would get his lesson and i would get what's lived there for years off my chest.
i let myself think about it, i imagine threat and violence. and then it comes to me.
you know what; it's not my defect that turks are sexually frustrated and to a good extent, perverted. it is not my defect and has nothing to do with me, my shorts, or my running and the potential of my boobs bouncing. i don't have to pay attention to whatever is happening outside of me and i choose not to. no shame, no guilt, no feelings of self-consciousness, no frustration. just a great run by the sea.
the rest of it goes great.


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