It's getting close to being about that time. Another month and it will be officially fishing season. At least my fishing season. Not too hot, not too cold, just perfect 75 degree weather, and it's time to go.
But here's what makes me mad. Every season I head out to Bass Pro and get myself restocked on all necessary tackle. New weights, hooks, a hula popper or two, and I'm ready to go. Only always, ALWAYS, some sexist asshole sees me in there with my soon to be husband (who knows ZERO about fishing), and asks him if he's teaching the "little lady how to fish." Excuse me dumbass, but did it ever occur to you that since I am the one HOLDING all of the equipment and picking it out that I might be the one who actually knows about fishing?
I know, it's a concept. A lady who knows how to fish.
But here's what makes me mad. Every season I head out to Bass Pro and get myself restocked on all necessary tackle. New weights, hooks, a hula popper or two, and I'm ready to go. Only always, ALWAYS, some sexist asshole sees me in there with my soon to be husband (who knows ZERO about fishing), and asks him if he's teaching the "little lady how to fish." Excuse me dumbass, but did it ever occur to you that since I am the one HOLDING all of the equipment and picking it out that I might be the one who actually knows about fishing?
I know, it's a concept. A lady who knows how to fish.
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