On a recent visit to Doha, I dropped in to say hello to my old tailor, who works in a tiny little shop in an obscure little area and does great work – in his own good time.
After exchanging greetings and asking about family members, etc. he looked at me and said “You are looking a little different, madame.”
I can see where this is going, and I try to head him off . .
“Yes, yes” I hurriedly reply, heading toward the door, “I am a couple years older, ha ha ha, it’s so nice seeing you!”
“Yes madame,” he says beaming at me, “You are a little bit FAT!”
“Bye!” I holler over my shoulder, as I grab AdventureMan and push him out the door; I can’t get out the door fast enough. NO! I am not fat! But who has a better eye than a tailor?
AdventureMan isn’t easy to push, especially when he is weak from laughing too hard. He is very kind to me for the rest of the day, knowing my feelings are fragile, and damaged.