My Golden SnowPlow

Yesterday I had a handyman come to the house to assess a potential problem in the ceiling of my basement bedroom. I held the door open for the white-bearded handyman, but accidentally slammed the storm door in the face of his younger assistant. As the big guy let himself in, he creepily scanned my body with squinted eyes, especially his left eye. 
In my bedroom, as I stood talking to the sweet old handyman, the younger guy made eye contact with me from behind him. Then, he looked at my butt and thighs as if he was well pleased. Then he held his squinted-eye gaze on my eyes. As the white-bearded handyman continued to chat about my pipe situation, I dealt with his big oafish side-kick by mirroring him. I stared at him with squinted eyes, the same way I did when I walked onto the school bus in Kindergarten. I had heard the stories of how my older red-headed freckled brother had been bullied by high school kids on this bus, so I walked down the aisle like I knew kung fu. They never messed with me. So, I pulled out my kindergarten bad-ass look, then I scanned his body up and down and landed my glare onto his eyes again. Typically this works.
I’ve used this method for groups of construction workers whenever they’ve tried to undress me with their whistling or silent stares when I have to walk in front of them. I’ve undressed men right back with my eyes, making them feel vulnerable and naked, causing their guy friends to crack up and tease them since as long as I can remember.
I can desexualize a situation real quick. But this man seemed to think my mocking him was an invitation to continue his violation of my boundaries. When the happy handyman asked him to go get the scope out of the van I took this as my opportunity to set things straight. As the oaf walked out of my bedroom, I said, “Hold up. What’s your name again?” He told me his name. I said, “I don’t like how you’re looking at me. I just want to make that clear. I see you looking my body up and down and I don’t like it.” He looked down and said, “Ok.” He went on upstairs to get the scope. The handyman looked surprised and said, “He’s never done anything like that before.” I thought, “Yeah right, try looking behind you when you are talking to a woman customer.” 
The rest of their visit, he-who-got-in-trouble tried so hard to disappear. It’s hard to make yourself invisible when you are gigantic. He stood there like a little kid staring at his phone trying to mind his own business, but you know me, I had to harass him. Let’s just say I was training him how to engage with a woman who does not project her sexuality toward men to get something fixed in her house. I asked his opinion about the job that his boss and I were discussing at least five times. He would kind of nod and shrug and barely utter a few words. He was so uncomfortable that at one point when he had to point up at the ceiling vent and his T-shirt exposed his drooping belly that hung over his jeans like a sandbag, he tried to subtly get the shirt to drop back down by pressing his elbow against it. I love it when I can make a perpetrator squirm.
I thought we were all good, but he had the balls to do it again right before I ushered them to the front door and out. It’s as if moving to the upstairs living room erased all of the ground rules we had established in my bedroom. The good news is that the older handyman said that I don’t have a problem in my ceiling and told me that usually their visit would have been $75 but the visit was free if I was going to use them again. I said, “Of course!” I lied. In my mind, I thanked my Angels for balancing out a bad situation. 
I knew that the guy’s warped sexual energy would linger in my bedroom, so I cracked the window, prayed that my room would be cleared and sprayed water in the air. I also cleaned the whole house, especially where he had stood or walked. When I went to bed, I could still sense some of his energy because I would get fleeting images of him or gruesome sexual images that weren’t mine. Here is how I cleared the remaining energy. 
I visualized an image of a yellow snowplow shoveling from side to side through my room as if the room was a rectangular field of energy floating in the distance. Then I asked my Angels to clear the room. Each time I saw another bad image, I would picture my scene of a happy yellow snowplow clearing the energy back and forth across the rectangle of the room. Then I would pray again, “Angels, clear my room.” I had a wonderful, deep night’s sleep. 
Feel free to use my golden snowplow anytime. It works like a charm! For more tips on How to Clear and Protect Your Energy, you can get my PDF by signing up for my mailing list at arielenergyhealer.com. I’ll send you a free copy. Happy plowing

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