Now, I usually do not engage the protesters or even talk to them except to request that they not block the sidewalk or the clinic door. But apparently I had eaten Honey Bunches of Bitch for breakfast because my rebuttal was "Go (expletive) yourself" followed by "(expletive) off". It actually worried me that I wasn't more quick-witted than to drop the F bomb twice in five seconds. It was bound to be "one of those days."
I had planned to ignore her (promise!), but she came to me the exact wrong way that morning:
"You should write a letter to your mother and thank her for not aborting you!"
I don't even remember how it happened, but all of a sudden we were nose-to-nose and I was yelling in her face that my mother was dead and how dare she tell me (expletive) about my mother and to go (expletive) herself, too......
I went into the clinic to cool off, but couldn't really. I couldn't believe what had just happened. I had never before been on the receiving end of protester banter, and I finally learned what it felt like. I felt VIOLATED. I felt ABUSED.
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Delusional, foul-mouthed clinic escort (language warning) cusses out abortion protesters and feels abused after one protester suggests she thank her mom for not aborting her: