I feel quite good now about my wedding dress - purple silk, given to me by my sister, because I'm a big believer in recycling and had no money (and got married in a refugee camp). However, I have, if not a failure, at least an excruciatingly embarrassing story about it. I'd worn it in Indonesia about five years before, (because I'm also good at inappropriate clothing, and never had/ have any money to speak of) when I'd been an English teacher in a university there (to be fair, I was a volunteer...). It was very hot and humid, and I was tired (probably hungover) so I sat down for a few minutes. Then I got up to write something on the blackboard (it was some time ago. We had blackboards then) only to hear a collective intake of breath from my ultraconservative female Muslim students. Apparently the pool of sweat on the seat of my dress was misinterpreted. I mistook the gasps for collective insight into my brilliant methodology, and went on grinning and teaching to the increasingly uncomfortable room and it was only when I had crossed the town of Samarinda on my bicycle, and entered the compound where I lived, that a rather shy neighbour pointed out that I might want to get changed ...

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Ecological philosopher, writer, yoga and meditation facilitator. www.knowyogaireland.com

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