Seriously, you would think I was lurching around the town square with a flour sack over my head the way some people have been looking at me these past days.
And okay, I will admit that I'm looking slightly less than "well put together," but I mean c'mon, I don't think I'm ready for the bell tower just yet.
And it's difficult to convey a sense of style (and for me, difficult is the tamest of words I can use here) when you´ve been living in the same pants and t-shirt for two months. I long to buy new clothes, but the ones I've got have been perfect for the hiking I've been doing, and any other clothing would just be something else to carry.
So I probably have a bit of a street urchin look going on for me, which really stops working once you get past the age of say...ten. I've also lost a considerable amount of weight, so these cargo pants that were comfortably loose for walking have become clown-like. We won't spend time talking about this t-shirt. I wore it for LW2, and all across Spain and I should really get rid of it...but I can't, just can't do it. And then there's the decidedly male flannel shirt I wear over everything to really bang that outfit home.
So, okay...maybe I get it a little bit.
I was telling Gwen that if I was in Portland, no one would look at me twice. But I happen to be in Western Europe where fashion is quite the thing. It's like being in New York...people look good here. When I was trouping with the pilgrim hoards on the Camino Frances, there were so many of us dusting around in our shabby clothes that no one noticed us. But, that's not the case here either and so even in the smaller villages I regularly get "the once over." And I'm not just talking about furtive little glances. I'm talking about full-on, eyes covering me from head to toe, trying to take it all in. Children, teenagers, workmen, the woman watering her garden. Doesn't matter. I'm the side-show of Portugal.
Yesterday a guy was walking across the lane a couple hundred feet in front of me and he actually stopped and backed up a few feet to take a gander. And I'm not entirely sure about this, but I think he may have crossed himself.
And maybe for someone more secure, all this attention would be somehow fulfilling, or at the very least not bothersome. But this isn't "Hey, Breck Girl!" attention, and it bothers me a great deal. I can't seem to get very comfortable and have become downright clumsy with it.
Today I was at this diner type place, and so many people were looking at me that the piece of chicken I was cutting flew onto the floor while my cutlery clattered and screeched to a halt on the plate. I looked up with that goober smile I have as if to say, "ha ha, silly me!" But instead of sympathetic shrugs people quickly averted their eyes back to their meals, hoping to stave off any further outbursts.
So...maybe now that I'm done walking, I'll try to find something else to wear. Think they make gunny sacks in a size 8?
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2 comments:
Well, you don't have to worry.
One of these days, you're going to be just as pretty
as mademoiselle, maybe prettier.
You already got bone structure.
When l was your age, l didn't have no bone structure.
Took me years to get bone structure.
And don't think bone structure's not important. Nobody started to call me mademoiselle till l was
getting a little bone structure.
When l was your age, l was skinnier than a pole.
l never thought l'd have nothing up here.
You're going to have them up there, too.
Look, l'll tell you what.
Want me to show you how to use cosmetics?
Look, l'll let you put on my earrings.
You can see how pretty you're going to be.
And l'll show you how to make up your eyes.
And your lips.
And l'll see to it you get a little bra or something.
But right now you're going to pick your little ass up,
you're going to drop it in the backseat and you're going to cut out the crap, you understand?
I love it! I get the scum bag looks on BART all the time. Certainly after working all day in the mines. It's awful how based on appearances people can easily make a snap judgement of you. Fuck 'em. Bastards! They should be so lucky to see us clean up. Like, last night I wore a short black dress with some awesome boots and killed some of my friends. Sgt. Amy
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