8.13.08
My family has decided that I have a boyfriend.
Let me explain. My first day with the family, I showed pictures of many people and made mention that I have lots and lots of friends – boys and girls. However, I said that I didn’t have a b-f for the sheer reason that I didn’t want to be making wedding plans throughout my time here. Here in the great state of Kampuchea…boyfriend = bong = sra lang = song-saa = husband or wife. It isn’t like lovely America, where dating is an acceptable way to spend time and boys and girls are remarkably dispensable. You have to be careful about these kinds of things.
So…out of personal interest, I said, no, I do not have a sweetheart or a boyfriend or any sort of thing for the sheer fact that I would rather maintain the image of a teacher and it is easier without trying to explain details about a boy in a language that I barely speak.
My family has known my “relationship status” for some time. However…they have changed their mind. I must have a sweetheart they say – I absolutely must! Why, you ask? Well…because I painted my toenails. Yep, I painted my toenails, and I must have done so because I have a boyfriend. Of course, they’re teasing, but the theory is still basically there. I’m sure if I put on make-up, it would be the equivalent of being practically married. Or…wanting that status within the week. My LCF noted that the act of painting your nails is a fairly rare one, one reserved for the break-all-the-rules weddings. Granted I have only heard stories and seen pictures of these so called weddings, but I basically agree. The wo
men that I see in the street don’t wear make-up and, as much as they may try, not always clean clothes though always modest. In the weddings, though…think 80s prom with ruffles upon ruffles piled atop silk ruffles. Or…think the most elaborate occasion ever with silk and lace and make-up caked on like frosting on an amazing 5 tier wedding cake. A white cake…very very white frosting on a very white cake.
PS…I can’t wait for my first wedding…as long as it isn’t my own.
My family has decided that I have a boyfriend.
Let me explain. My first day with the family, I showed pictures of many people and made mention that I have lots and lots of friends – boys and girls. However, I said that I didn’t have a b-f for the sheer reason that I didn’t want to be making wedding plans throughout my time here. Here in the great state of Kampuchea…boyfriend = bong = sra lang = song-saa = husband or wife. It isn’t like lovely America, where dating is an acceptable way to spend time and boys and girls are remarkably dispensable. You have to be careful about these kinds of things.
So…out of personal interest, I said, no, I do not have a sweetheart or a boyfriend or any sort of thing for the sheer fact that I would rather maintain the image of a teacher and it is easier without trying to explain details about a boy in a language that I barely speak.
My family has known my “relationship status” for some time. However…they have changed their mind. I must have a sweetheart they say – I absolutely must! Why, you ask? Well…because I painted my toenails. Yep, I painted my toenails, and I must have done so because I have a boyfriend. Of course, they’re teasing, but the theory is still basically there. I’m sure if I put on make-up, it would be the equivalent of being practically married. Or…wanting that status within the week. My LCF noted that the act of painting your nails is a fairly rare one, one reserved for the break-all-the-rules weddings. Granted I have only heard stories and seen pictures of these so called weddings, but I basically agree. The wo
men that I see in the street don’t wear make-up and, as much as they may try, not always clean clothes though always modest. In the weddings, though…think 80s prom with ruffles upon ruffles piled atop silk ruffles. Or…think the most elaborate occasion ever with silk and lace and make-up caked on like frosting on an amazing 5 tier wedding cake. A white cake…very very white frosting on a very white cake.PS…I can’t wait for my first wedding…as long as it isn’t my own.
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