I blame part of my social leprosy in Spain on my inability to walk in high heels. No self-respecting woman in my neighbourhood leaves the house without full war paint. Everyone is heavily accessorized. No creases, wrinkles or dirty little finger prints.
With my uniform of yoga pants and oatmeal covered tank-top I just don’t fit in.
And, I didn’t get the orange memo.
Just out of the loop I guess.
But suddenly my brown bikini and beige hat seem ho-hum and all wrong.