Sunday, September 21, 2014

 Oh, I give up!

Bianca and her adorable friend Manu

Today I went to a fashion show that was for the elimination of violence against women. You have to be happy that it wasn't for violence against women because we are in Italy, and, you never do know. As someone who watched four episodes of Uomini & Donne today, I speak from media experience. I, personally, wish it had not been a fashion show for what I hope are obvious reasons, but in its defense, the women were not models and the clothes and accessories were mostly made by women and from women run businesses. It would have been nice if women at the event didn't describe the models based on their waist circumference, even if just for one day,  and if there had been a sense of sisterhood or comraderie. If there was, for me, it was largely lost in translation. I hope that some woman benefits from this event in a profound and important way, although I doubt it. All in all, I might not have been in the right mood for this social function. (You think??)  The best part were these three teenage actresses who did a couple of short theatrical numbers about what it means to be a woman in loud, strong, angry voices that scared the crap out of every man in attendence.

I desperately did not feel like getting all dolled up for the event, but I did.

There was a very melancholy clarinet player. On a happy note, the previously skeletal MC, looked much healthier than she did two years ago at this event.

This is Bianca's mother. Bianca works at the provincia di Lucca and she invited me to the event through a company email that never arrived. Bianca's mother told me a story about how she couldn't keep this guys three wives straight because they were all chubby and she couldn't tell chubby women apart. Sigh.

These young girls learned a valuable lesson about how youth and beauty trumps everything as they were mobbed by photographers and largely ignored by the angry actresses.

 While the event coordinators consciously included more mature women and a pregnant woman, the effect was largely negated by everyone going "Wow look at that pancione (large belly)!" and "How old do you think that one is?"

P.S. I practice taught my friend Patrizia the first lesson that I am going to teach my first real English class on Tuesday. It went pretty well. These are the eight notebooks of material that I have put together to fill up 80 hours of class time. That's right, some 13 unemployed individuals who are probably being forced to spend with me by a bureaucratic agency that requires a copy of all my class handouts and who are forcing me to give the students an assessment test first thing when they arrive, are going to get their hands on a lot of paper.

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