(I am studying to be a vet. I also work as a casual kennel hand in a vet clinic. The current consequences of both is that both of my arms are very bruised and one is badly scratched. On the day of this conversation, my practical class involved pregnancy testing cattle, which involves what the general public would consider distasteful. I am clean, but I have my dirty overalls with me on the train, and despite my efforts you can smell them slightly. A woman sits down next to me, and after about five minutes shuffles uncomfortably and pretends to cough, whilst leaning away from me. I ignore her. Also, I’m female.)

Passenger: “You know, you really should learn how to take a shower.”

Me: “Wait, are you talking to me?”

Passenger: “Who else would I be talking to?”

Me: “There’s an entire train crammed full of people; I presumed you knew someone.”

Passenger: “Well, you really need to take a shower. You stink.”

Me: “Um, well, I have showered, not that I should need to share my personal hygiene habits with you.”

Passenger: “You’re dressed all nicely, but you look like you’ve been fighting and you really smell. You’re never going to find a partner or a job or be successful in life if you don’t look after yourself and take pride in your appearance. You’re a woman. You should always look and smell good and behave like a lady.”

(I am now fed up at this point. Normally I avoid discussing what I do with people, because it usually grosses them out, and I also don’t like arguing. This was not one of those times.)

Me: “Well, I am happily single, and anyone who knows me will tell you that I’m not very ladylike. I’m a vet student. I’ve been sticking my hand up a cow’s backside for three hours. So, maybe society doesn’t approve, but you can be sure that it will make me a successful vet.”

(From this point on I ignored her entirely. She very quietly got off at the next stop. No one bothered me after that.)

(I’m on my way home in the train from a party together with a few friends. We’re all wearing long skirts and corsets, because the party had a folk theme. Across from us are two girls. Both are dressed in very skimpy outfits: thin tank tops and skirts that do better work as a belt. They’re obviously mocking us, looking over the entire time and laughing in a very childish manner. My friends obviously feel uncomfortable. After my friends get off at their stops I’m the only one left.)

Girl #1: “So, you guys think you’re cool? Because you look ridiculous.”

(Girl #2 sniggers and mutters her approval. I look up, very calmly. They’re obviously expecting me to cower, because my friends have left.)

Girl #1: “I mean, look at you.”

Me: “Well, I feel comfortable in them. At least I have the decency to put on clothes, instead of scarring everyone in this train for life.”

(They left me alone after that.)

(My boyfriend is generally quite shy around strangers and not very talkative, especially on the subway during our morning commute. I don’t really mind, but still have trouble adapting to the serious change in his demeanor. As we sit down in the subway carriage in the morning he grows quiet and somber.)

Me: “Ah, babe, are you sure you’re really not sad now? You look totally destroyed!”

Boyfriend: *deep melodramatic sigh* “There will come a day when we will truly know each other, and you will no longer feel the need to ask me if I’m sad on the subway.”

(I’m waiting for a train to arrive when I witness this event.)

Intoxicated Stranger: “I’m going to Hogwarts!” *runs into support beam*

(I am on my way to an orchestra rehearsal with my double bass. When I approach the bus stop, pretty much everyone sitting down jumps up and makes space for me, which is much appreciated. Once I am settled, one of the people who’d got up sits back down next to me and nods at my bass.)

Stranger: “Wow, that’s a pretty big cello. You must be really strong to carry that around all day!”

Me: “Haha, thanks, but I’m afraid this is a double bass. I’d love to learn the cello too, though. My sister learns it, and—”

Stranger: “No, no, I’m sure of it- that’s definitely a cello. You into that classical music, then? I really love… I really love [famous violin piece]. Yeah. That’s a cello thing, isn’t it? Do you play that?”

Me: “Well, no, but—”

(Just then, one of the actual cellists in my orchestra shows up. I breathe a sigh of relief, hoping that I can finally get it through this guy’s head that what I have is a bass. Unfortunately…)

Stranger: “Oh, look! A violin-playing friend for you!”