Did I Obviously Look Like a Hooker? Out of the Mouthes of Babes…

I was in the parking lot of Walmart on Keeaumoku street. I saw a black man with two little light skinned boys. They were adorable, they looked mixed race, like me. I imagined the man was a single father, spending quality time with his small kids. The older child looked about 6 years old, his brother was probably 4. I smiled at the kids.

“Hooker!” the older one said to me, in the tone of a prized pupil who again had the right answer before the rest of the class.

I was totally surprised, but I recovered quickly enough to try to find out how the kid reached that conclusion. The father had been unlocking the trunk of his car to load the shopping bags. He turned around, surprised to see me standing there, but not too overwhelmed to give me a head to toe visual assessment.

I was very friendly. “Do you know what this little cutie said? He called me a Hooker,” I made my tone lighthearted.

The father was totally surprised “He don’t know what that is!”

Automatically I responded in kind, “I know he don’t!” We laughed it off and I continued into the store.

But, obviously, the kid knew something. What was it? My low cut blouse that showed off my recently acquired cleavage assets? My ever present make-up? Women didn’t usually wear much makeup in Honolulu, unlike Manhattan. Or was it some sort of vibe? Perhaps the child had overheard the dad say something. I wasn’t sure what exactly, made me look like I wanted men to look–and like. But something was giving off the absolutely correct impression. I went into Walmart and bought a looser top.