Legs

I did something this morning that I almost never do: I walked over to the unemployment check-in wearing a short (to my knees) skirt, no nylons or leggings and a short-sleeve shirt. Ahh the immodesty of it all. I do live in Bnei Brak, ya know. But I’m having an allergy attack from trimming on the verge last evening and my head feels like it wants to explode and I couldn’t face long skirt and long sleeves in the heat.

Now, in the U.S. if you are a girl walking along and the car driving down the road, driven by a young man, suddenly slows down and keeps pace with you, you get very nervous. If because you are on a pedestrian through-way, the car then makes the block to meet up with you when you come out on the other side, you’d be hitting the panic mode. If he made the block again when you came out the next through-way, you’d be thinking rapist, kidnapper!! and reaching for your mace. Here, you just laugh and wave (and be thankful that, with his eyes riveted on your legs and not the road, you haven’t caused an accident) when he tries to strike up a conversation that third time around. Happens every time.

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