The Svelte Thai Women And The “Won Breathe” Foreigner
- Posted by Essays Blog in Essays Blog |
- June 5th, 2009 |
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I came to realize early on in my act in this beautiful country of Thailand, that Thai women were not only perfectly groomed and gracious, but they were absolutely “svelte.” I mean, how many more attributes do they get? I felt like Gulliver in the land of the Lilliputians.
As a newly-arrived expat in Thailand, I looked forward to perception everything; from the Reclining Buddha to the gold-encrusted temples. But first, I told myself, I had any capital shopping to do. With the temperature at 100 degrees and the humidity fighting for apical billing, I cerebration the best place to kill cardinal birds with one metaphorical endocarp would be at an air conditioned center. Shopping has always had a artifact of lifting my over-sized booze. I’d hoped to find a cutesy little sundress that could change my 38DD bust line and my 30 inch area into something that looked “svelte.”
But this wasn’t just for me, this shopping business. No, no. I made it a prerequisite to always help the local economy. I was directed by our hotel’s concierge to attempt Robinson’s Department Fund in downtown Bangkok. “Real nice clothes foh you, MaDam.”
Wow, Robinsons? Right here in downtown Bangkok? It took me XXX minutes on a hot tuk-tuk ride in the piercing heat, but I made it, unharmed and ready to drop, drop, drop. As I sauntered into what I cerebration was the Women’s Department, I obstructed abbreviated. Oh, no, these must be the teenage’s clothes. They’re much also bantam for an adult. I scanned the racks. Who wears a filler 2? Where am I, in the Barbi and Ken Department? I couldn’t get these styles around my helping, much less my back-side.
I could accompany individual walking towards me, but she looked like a adolescent. Certainly she’s not the salesgirl? She obstructed in front of me. “Gootmoanin.”
“Oh.” I felt my face get hot. She looked like a faerie. She wasn’t a little girl after all; she was at least in her 20s and obviously the salesgirl in this department. “Uh, I, ah, was… Is thither a Black’s department in this fund?”
“Yeth.” She smiled and waited expectantly.
“Oh. Advantageously, I, ah, could you point me thereto?”
“Mai kow jai ka.”
I yanked my Thai-to-English conversation book from my pocket and handed it to her. She pointed to a Thai phrase and handed the book back to me.
“Oh! You don’t believe?”
She smiled.
“Okay. Careful. Compassionate.” I pointed to my well-fed body, piece she watched expectantly. I so yanked on the area of my dress and said, “Clothes. For me.”
“Yeth,” she smiled demurely piece looking at her feet, “preze foroow me.”
She led me to a bantam alcove, where any well-fed tourists were grazing about. Sidling capable a rather rotund shopper, I asked if she knew why we were led to this abstracted area. “Is it because we’re foreigners?”
She puckered up her mouth as if suck on a acerb gumball: “Yea, honey, it’s cuz we’re foreigner’s all right, larger-than-life foreigners!” She threw back her head and guffawed at her cleverness.
“Huh?”
“The only sizes you’ll find out thither,” she cocked her head towards the bantam clothes I’d just left, “are filler twos to fours, and honey, that ain’t us.” She had herself another good laugh.
I snuck a peek around the room piece she chortled, and realized that every body standing in this room was years past those proportions.
I knew I wasn’t going to like these svelte, tidy little women. They must be bulimic &ndash that’s it. Binge, purge, binge, purge - they’re not fooling me. Dream on, lady.
As I toured and shopped the city in the following weeks, I came to realize that the Thais were also neat and tidy in other aspects of their lives. Every department fund I visited in Bangkok was implausibly pristine. Shirts and pants, towels, linens and activewear were not only folded and shapely, but actually looked as tho’ folded by automation. All the garments concealed cardboard inserts to give them attribute. No pins showing, no crinkled edges, just as if it were a picture on display. The dresses, blouses and shirts were neatly hung on hangers according to sizes and colors. Amazing, considering the litter I’d witnessed outside on the streets of Bangkok, where every little nook and crevice harbored any kinda debris.
For us, ahem, larger sizes, I found that anything imported was deplorably high. An imported name-brand in Thailand could be four times higher than one might pay in the States. Paradoxically, Thai clothes are real inexpensive and quite chic &ndash if you’re less than five feet tall and weigh between LXX and ninety pounds.
I made a decision so and thither: Before I left this country I would diet, fast, quit eating, quit breathing; whatsoever it took to look as svelte as these Thai women.
Another eye-opener I found was that every place I shopped, thither were at least III salespeople hovering over me, grin, waiing &ndash a Thai greeting. So helpful! I’ll be real cranky when I return to the States and don’t get the same service.
But &ndash back to reality. After living in Thailand for a few months, I learned the arcanum of the segregated clothing. The salespeople have the perfect solution for us larger sizes. It’s called “Won Breathe” &ndash meaning HUGE. You enter the clothing department, and unless you’re built like Thin, the sweet, grin, ever-helpful salesgirls &ndash who all look pre-pubescent &ndashsteer you toward the “Won Breathe” department. This is where you’ll find all the loose-fitting, baggy, beachy, gauzy, hippie-looking outfits, and all claiming to fit ONE Filler; from filler 8 all the artifact capable Mama Cass. This is their artifact of action face - yours. They would never dream to insinuate you were large, fat, obese, or chubby. You just happen to fall into the category of Won Breathe.
As I departed Robinsons in my new muumuu, nearly tripping over the hemline, I got a glimpse of my reflection in the display pane. YIKES! Picture Hilo Hattie in strappy sandals.
(Excerpted from A Broad Abroad in Thailand by Dodie Cross, with permission).