Hips Don’t Lie

In a small Siam Square boutique selling office wear, I noticed that the friendly sales assistant serving me had a prominent Adam’s apple, low husky voice, and gargantuan feet spilling out of her strappy heels.

I picked out a top I wanted to try on. “This one, got my size?”

She approached me with a tape measure, encircled my shoulder blades with it dramatically, and measured my bust. “Okay,” she nodded.

I picked out a skirt I wanted to try on. “This one, also got my size?”

She approached me with a tape measure, encircled my butt with it dramatically, and measured my hips. “OOOOO!” she giggled, covering her mouth as her mascara’d eyelashes fluttered in alternate shock and glee.

“Sorry ma’am, this one don’t have large size.”

Postcard

Hello folks. I’m perched on a stool at an Internet cafe in Hua Hin, Thailand. Alec arrived on Tuesday, and since then I haven’t had the time to write any entries, although quite a number are planned for when we get back to Singapore on Christmas Eve. In the meantime, we’ve been having lots of fun muddling along in classic Alec-Michelle style, despite the dismaying tendency of things to not exist or screw up every now and then, and my bitter resentment at having to pay farang prices for most things because of my choice of travelling companion.

But ignore my little gripes, which I enjoy making rather too much to really be serious about. I’d forgotten this is what it feels like to be blissfully happy. See you all soon.