The out-of-work truck driver in Myvatn told us yesterday that all day men call in to the radio station all day say who is the sexiest woman in Iceland. Well I'd like to nominate myself because last night, a hopping Saturday night in Skagastrond as I am sure you can all imagine, I wore perhaps the sexiest outfit possible over to Lára's house (my new Icelandic historian friend) for a drink. My outfit consisted of a flannel shirt, snow boots and sweat pants and not a single ounce of makeup. Needless to say, it was hot. I got caught up in my work before going over and all of a sudden it was time to leave. I had been in my flannel shirt and fleece-lined spandex pants all day, and the thought of changing seemed far too daunting so I thought "sweatpants go nicely over spandex, perfect" and as JeeHee pointed out, when I came home at 2am a little drunk and in my sweatpants, telling her about the delicious dessert Lára had served me and which I graciously consumed despite the other pastries JeeHee and I had at the bakery earlier in the day, they give you lots more room to eat. Word, JeeHee, I'm still rockin' my sweatpants now. **Generalization warning** JeeHee is asian, as if I hadn't made that clear enough by now, so she could eat 6 pounds of butter and it would never show, so the jokes we make together about getting fat in Iceland don't actually apply to her. But I really appreciate having someone who likes to eat sweets just as much as me, and who in a healthy way likes to kid around about how gross it is how much crap we are eating, but ultimately, like myself, doesn't actually give a shit because of how happy we are in the moment when we are cramming a chocolate covered, creme filled unpronounceable Icelandic pastry in our mouths knowing very well we would never glut like this in our respective home countries (ok sometimes.) Yet another reason why I am completely in love with her.
Its so nice being here, and not getting dressed at all during the day, and more or less looking like a warmly dressed homeless person at all times. I'm not sure I am going to fit into my skinny jeans when I get back to the city so sweatpants might be my new uniform for the weeks ahead.
On a slightly different note, there comes a time in a blogger's life when she no longer feels in control of her blog. She is no longer certain its just her best friends and a few others who feel obligated to monitor her activity who are reading. Its a bitter-sweet moment, really, because on the one hand she is pleased to have a larger audience reading her bullshit. However, on the other hand, now she has strangers reading her self deprecating thoughts about how chocolate covered raisins make her ass big. I have mixed feelings about this clearly, I think I preferred blogging when I knew it was just Caileen, my Dad, and sister reading, because it felt more like a group email to people I would normally write to anyway.