Agent orange


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.

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4 comments

  1. Your posts are making me roar with laughter as well as bringing me a bit of nostalgia—I have lived in countries not my birthplace and find myself nodding my head at some of your observations! Thank you for sharing! Thank you for putting into words what I didn’t have the time to do!!! It teaches you patience, doesn’t it? I’ll keep visiting and laughing right there with you!!

  2. Ha ha ha! You and me might look like twins in our uniforms- although my yoga pants are super stretched in the worst way. I’m sure I look hideous most of the time when I mean to look comfortable. Oh well.

  3. These ladies remind me of the same ladies I see every morning from my balcony walking back from the beach. There are 3 of them, Sometimes I see them and wonder if I will have that kind of friendship when I get to their age, its fun to wonder. And…

    I know what you mean about walking in high heels, Croatia is the same way, I rather walk with my flats and a pony tail it’s tooOOO hot to be walking around all glamoured up!

  4. You are hilarious! I can totally relate. My husband is Mexican and every time that I am with his family, I am the least dressed-up and painted.

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