Marsha’s Bully Blog


It’s late Saturday afternoon. Friends are coming to dinner. I’m making paella. Checking my ingredients, I realize I’m out of saffron. The local shop in my village doesn’t carry it, so I drive six miles to a larger, affluent town. I park in a small, cramped, outdoor lot, exit the car and begin walking towards the shops. 


I hear a loud blast of a car horn, turning to look in the direction of the offending sound I see a small blue Ford gunning for me. As I hightail it out of harm’s way, the menacing driver hollers out his window “You’re too fat!” 


Most fat people have these things happen on occasion. I’m no different, except I try to get a good photo of the bully for my imaginary Bully Blog.


When I’ve been hollered at before, it’s usually been from a car load of guys whizzing past, so I was a surprised this bully looked to be a lone, elderly man. Whipping out my trusty iphone, I followed his car.


The bully noticed I was following him on foot, as he looked for an empty space to park. He was forced to drive around me twice. I stayed a safe distance from him, as a bully behind the wheel of a lethal weapon is dangerous. I noticed he now had his window rolled up tight and refused to make eye contact with me.


When he finally parked his car, he sat there a few minutes, realizing I wasn’t going away. Staying a safe distance from him, as bully’s are unpredictable and I wasn’t going to allow this one to compromise my dinner party, I waited for him to emerge.


When he finally stepped out of his car, I yelled, ”Aren’t you a bit old to behave like that?”


He ignored me.


I took his picture and one of his number plate, announcing, ”I’m reporting you to the police.” His weeny response was “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” as he scurried away.


I reported the incident to the police. They filed a report on the hateful bugger and said they’d track him through his license plate. She acknowledged the plate was registered in the wealthy town, Sevenoaks, where the bully was driving. I don’t mean to come off ageist, but the nice lady officer said these kinds of incidents are often perpetrated by angry, white men in their sixties. I find that interesting.


- Marsha Coupé
Kent, England Marsha’s Bully Blog


It’s late Saturday afternoon. Friends are coming to dinner. I’m making paella. Checking my ingredients, I realize I’m out of saffron. The local shop in my village doesn’t carry it, so I drive six miles to a larger, affluent town. I park in a small, cramped, outdoor lot, exit the car and begin walking towards the shops. 


I hear a loud blast of a car horn, turning to look in the direction of the offending sound I see a small blue Ford gunning for me. As I hightail it out of harm’s way, the menacing driver hollers out his window “You’re too fat!” 


Most fat people have these things happen on occasion. I’m no different, except I try to get a good photo of the bully for my imaginary Bully Blog.


When I’ve been hollered at before, it’s usually been from a car load of guys whizzing past, so I was a surprised this bully looked to be a lone, elderly man. Whipping out my trusty iphone, I followed his car.


The bully noticed I was following him on foot, as he looked for an empty space to park. He was forced to drive around me twice. I stayed a safe distance from him, as a bully behind the wheel of a lethal weapon is dangerous. I noticed he now had his window rolled up tight and refused to make eye contact with me.


When he finally parked his car, he sat there a few minutes, realizing I wasn’t going away. Staying a safe distance from him, as bully’s are unpredictable and I wasn’t going to allow this one to compromise my dinner party, I waited for him to emerge.


When he finally stepped out of his car, I yelled, ”Aren’t you a bit old to behave like that?”


He ignored me.


I took his picture and one of his number plate, announcing, ”I’m reporting you to the police.” His weeny response was “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” as he scurried away.


I reported the incident to the police. They filed a report on the hateful bugger and said they’d track him through his license plate. She acknowledged the plate was registered in the wealthy town, Sevenoaks, where the bully was driving. I don’t mean to come off ageist, but the nice lady officer said these kinds of incidents are often perpetrated by angry, white men in their sixties. I find that interesting.


- Marsha Coupé
Kent, England
Marsha’s Bully Blog
It’s late Saturday afternoon. Friends are coming to dinner. I’m making paella. Checking my ingredients, I realize I’m out of saffron. The local shop in my village doesn’t carry it, so I drive six miles to a larger, affluent town. I park in a small, cramped, outdoor lot, exit the car and begin walking towards the shops. 
I hear a loud blast of a car horn, turning to look in the direction of the offending sound I see a small blue Ford gunning for me. As I hightail it out of harm’s way, the menacing driver hollers out his window “You’re too fat!” 
Most fat people have these things happen on occasion. I’m no different, except I try to get a good photo of the bully for my imaginary Bully Blog.
When I’ve been hollered at before, it’s usually been from a car load of guys whizzing past, so I was a surprised this bully looked to be a lone, elderly man. Whipping out my trusty iphone, I followed his car.
The bully noticed I was following him on foot, as he looked for an empty space to park. He was forced to drive around me twice. I stayed a safe distance from him, as a bully behind the wheel of a lethal weapon is dangerous. I noticed he now had his window rolled up tight and refused to make eye contact with me.
When he finally parked his car, he sat there a few minutes, realizing I wasn’t going away. Staying a safe distance from him, as bully’s are unpredictable and I wasn’t going to allow this one to compromise my dinner party, I waited for him to emerge.
When he finally stepped out of his car, I yelled, ”Aren’t you a bit old to behave like that?”
He ignored me.
I took his picture and one of his number plate, announcing, ”I’m reporting you to the police.” His weeny response was “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” as he scurried away.
I reported the incident to the police. They filed a report on the hateful bugger and said they’d track him through his license plate. She acknowledged the plate was registered in the wealthy town, Sevenoaks, where the bully was driving. I don’t mean to come off ageist, but the nice lady officer said these kinds of incidents are often perpetrated by angry, white men in their sixties. I find that interesting.
- Marsha Coupé
Kent, England