Walk of Shame

There is a very specific “Walk of Shame” that many of us foreign girls have taken here in Las Fuentes. Las Fuentes is known as a classy neighborhood, where most people shower, style their hair, plaster make-up on their face, dress to the nines, and strap on their high-heels before simply taking out the trash. On Saturday mornings, some of us big house girls would walk to the market near our home and, out of necessity, have to walk by a popular brunch place ¬†filled with the classiest of all Las Fuentes residents, sipping mimosas and nibbling chilaquiles. We, on the other hand, would mosey on by in our sweatpants and t-shirts, Old Navy flip flips, hair pulled back with an elastic headband, and residual makeup from the previous day, toting recycled tote bags to carry our goods home. A far cry from Coach purses, to be sure.

This morning, I wanted to bake some cookies, and my need for eggs blinded my fashion sense. I left the house in a 10-year-old sweatshirt and glasses, clutching my keys and money. Somehow it had slipped my mind that today was Sunday. Terrible oversight; there is a Catholic church right by the market and I failed to consider how many church-dressed people I’d encounter on my half-block walk. I like to think I didn’t stand out much, but as a blonde white girl in Mexico, I already don’t fit in, and add to that this morning’s lack of heels, eyeshadow, and fancy purse, and there was no mistaking I was an outsider. After squeezing through some dapper individuals dining at Daniel’s Tacos, I quickly asked for “seis huevos” at the fruit stand and left the market, excited to get on with my baking and to get back to the confines of my own home, where sweatshirts and flip flops are always accepted.

Side Note: I read the directions for this cookie recipe after buying the eggs, only to find out that I needed a rolling pin, cookie cutter and at least 24 hours to let the dough chill. So, I settled for making straight-up cookie dough instead. Fair trade, right?


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