Scandalous

Clothing-wise I have always been G-rated, well, maybe a wild streak would be PG-13. There were the homemade daisy duke cut-offs when I was 14. A mean boy told me I was too chubby to wear them. Those immediately went in the trash. Or the leopard-print pants I wore to a party as a freshman in college. An upperclassman in my sorority told me I should "rethink my wardrobe choices." I think I went bra-less once with a halter top. That about sums up my provocative side.

Azeri women are devout fashionistas. They idolize the stiletto, skinny jean and snug blouse. It might be 95 degrees outside with 80 percent humidity and you might have to take an unairconditioned bus and then walk 8 blocks to your destination, but it doesn't matter. Style is priority. By no means would a local wear gym-type clothing or anything shorter than a capri pant.

I however am a no-nonsense, Nike-adoring, Gap short-wearing, hair-in-a-ponytail American. You would have thought I was strutting around in a bikini by the menacing looks I got for wearing khaki shorts with a 6-inch inseem. And this is while I was walking the dogs on our 5 mile morning trek/sweat session across the city. I reluctantly purchased longer walking shorts. They are quite restrictive, hit at the knee and look like something my mom wore circa 1985. And oh yes, I still wear my sneakers.

While adorning this awesome outfit, I bent over to scoop up dog poop (something else that is viewed as obscene) and riiiiiiiiipppppp, there went the seat of my new shorts. So I double-knotted my shoes, rolled the cuff of my ridiculously long shorts, stood up straight, wiped the perspiration beads from my brow and held my head high as we strolled the 2 miles back to the apartment. My bright pink panties were giving the proverbial finger to anyone who dared to look.