In the mornings after I drop off my daughter at “school,” I usually walk the neighborhood, either to get some exercise (we have some killer hills in Jardim Paulista) or to run errands. At this time in the morning, there are plenty of other people on the sidewalks. And many of them like to stare at me. I’m talking jaw dropping stares.
At first I thought I was just being paranoid. But as they say (though I can’t remember who, maybe only my father), “You’re not being paranoid if everyone really IS out to get you.” Then I thought it was because I looked soooo American. Then it dawned on me.
For some reason I have a significant amount of pink workout attire. And I realized, after many months, that people just don’t wear pink in Sao Paulo. They really don’t. At least not the bubblegum, cotton candy pink that I seem to have been attracted to at some point.
Walking the streets in the flavors of pink that I do seems to be the equivalent of walking the streets dressed as a circus clown. Am I going to adjust my outfits? No. But I’ll certainly be more aware of my actions, as I am to be easily identified.