People talk about me all the time. This statement may come off as horrendously egocentric. But, it’s also true. As one of two white people in the land of asians, I sorta get noticed a lot. It’s not my fault- light just tends to bounce of my skin a little more than the others living here. Anyhow, I don’t understand the majority of what people say about me. But sometimes I catch on. What’s understood is more often than not the usual- “Why does that foreigner walk so darn fast?” and “That white person actually speaks Mongolian!?” or my personal favorite: “That foreigner is so pretty with her huge nose!”.
But once and a while a really good one comes along.
This evening my sister, Sunjee, graced me with one such hidden gem. While I was busy directing a spoonful of rice towards my mouth at the family dinner table, Sunjee reached over and jabbed me twice in the arm. Tearing my gaze off of my precious food, she started furiously babbling.
First she asked if I generally cook solely for myself. Once I replied in the affirmative, my sister proudly announced her piece of gossip. To put it briefly, one of the neighborhood kid’s mom works at the shop I frequent. Apparently she told her nine year old son, Mustafa,that she always sells me so much food… and how fat I must be getting from eating so much.
…And then her son proceeded to tell everyone else.