On the way home

I stopped by my buddy's house after work yesterday for a few beers and to lecture him on how friggin competent he is (we all need it sometimes).

I left his place after midnight, walking up Istiklal Caddesi (main drag of Taksim, a hip part of town) up to the dolmus (van sized bus). Istiklal is usually full of couples and groups of all ages cruising the drag on foot on Fri & Sat night. Being a yabanci (foreigner) I always get looks and attention no matter how I look or what I wear, weaving in and out of the casual pace of people, occasionally bumping someone enough to spin my watch 1/4 of the way around my wrist.
I had a few beers tonight, could have used a few more to feel just about right.

In the last few weeks since I've gotten this office job, I feel my ass cheeks spreading. I'm not consuming more cals than I was before, but I am noticing my hips gaining an inch and the proportion of my waist isn't catching up. Yeah, I know be greatful to keep the hourglass shape, but my figure is standing out (literally and figuratively) more than these skinny ass tan biatches over yonder.

I guess it wouldn't matter so much if I didn't attract so much goddam attention as it is, with my whiteass skin, blue eyes and foreign vibe. At least 'American' isn't the first guess I get usually, suppose I've grown colder. (Americans are soo friendly compared to Europeans!!)

So I'm sitting in the front seat of the dolmus (van) noticing the guys in the seats behind me staring at me. (Please don't make me ask the driver to stop, are these asses going to follow me? If they do I'll stop in at the convenient store near my house, the owner and his son know me. All I can think of in Turkish is "it herif!" meaning "dog man".)

I don't have to request my stop, just jump out as he stops for someone else. I walk the few blocks home with no worry, just more eyes. (None of them speak, but I live on the street, so they know who I am. If anything were to happen, I'd be protected, one of the benefits of a tight city community.)

Kid outside my house is picking up the garbage with the rickshaw looking bag he pulls by 2 sticks. He apologizes as I step over the trash to the door.

"Problem yok. Kolay gelsin," I say. (No problem. May the work come easy.) He probably didn't hear me, but I meant it.

And one short rant: I only catch a few music vids these days, but these gals with perfect makeup and super-skinny bods can't fucking dance. Such a let down. I so should have been an extra in music videos!