When I was about 8 I would get out of dance lessons and wait for my mom to pick me up on the corner outside the building. Because I had just got done with dance I was wearing tights and a leotard. Men in cars often drove by and yelled out the window either that I looked like a fat pig or a tasty slut. The would yell and hoot and honk the horn. At 8, I felt devalued when they had negative comments and validated when they had hyper sexual ones.