WWAD? (What Would Allah Do?)

It's slim pickins in the pueblo when it comes to maternity garb.  Well, quite honestly, it's slim pickins when it comes to any kind of garb at all.  As far as I can tell we have three official dress shops, one of them doubling as hunting supply store during season.  Hey, it's crisis over here (pronounced kree-seize) so I guess you gotta make your buck/euro wherever you can.

Imagine the excitement when the Moroccan's wife branched out on her own and opened up a women's shop on the main avenida just a stone's throw from his souped up version of the Dollar Store.  Though I wasn't expecting to find anything too sexy from this Muslim shopkeeper, I'll admit to hopes of a flowing (and waistless) dress that might ease me into the inferno that is summer in southern Spain.   Maybe it would have a pretty floral design that would mimick a henna tatoo.  Exactly what I need floating around my rapidly expanding midsection.  Sadly, my maternity collection, though I think Liz Lange would take issue with me calling it that, from the past six years is chock full of little more than polyester pant suits, long sleeved tops and two button cardigans; telltale signs of the summer mating of the schoolteacher in hopes of springtime babies.  

<><> <><> <><>

Caption?  Are you kidding me?!?
Let's make it a game, shall we?  
Post your best caption in the comments
section because I'm at a loss.

So with visions of airy cotton dresses, I hoofed it down to the new dress shop, so new in fact it doesn't even have a name, my 20 euro note burning a hole in my pocket.  And this is who greeted me.

Isn't she, uhm, subtle?
What in the hell?
And braless to boot. 

I had never seen such, such...what do I even call them?  Okay, so let's try again.  For a shop run by the only Muslim family in the pueblo, I couldn't believe my eyes.  Were those boobs or missiles?  Holy balls those things were huge!  Maybe Moroccan women are bustier than Spanish women.  Maybe Mohamed got some kind of a discount on this mannequin seeing as her boobs are twice as large as her head.  Is there such a thing as bargain basement for mannequin shopping?  Jeez o Pete.  Those tits are ridiculous.  And how did his wife feel about such bazookas in her storefront window?  It's not exactly Jihad material but it's gotta be cuttin' it close on a few of those doctrines listed in the Qur'an.

I shook my head to clear the image and entered.  Please have something that will fit me a month, 2 months, 5 months from now.  And may it not have rhinestones or leopard print.  Please. 

I scoured that store for far longer than it was worth.  I flipped past the zebra print leggings, ignored the "I Love insert African nation of your choice" tees,  and skipped the Spanish housecoat section altogether, though it was tempting.  And finally, found this.  Not bad and I still had some change left over to accessorize.  I would walk out for under 9 euros, thank you pueblo pricing but it remains to be seen how long the fit will last.  At three months I'm well, grande.  I guess if push comes to shove I can always go for the button down shown on the gal in the window.  In fact, at a closer glance, it just may be the perfect blouse for a  lactating mom, don't you think?

IT TAKES A VILLAGE TO RAISE AN IDIOT

I have no idea but for whatever reason, I've been off by a day all week long.  Monday was actually Sunday.  Tuesday was Wednseday.  Wednesday was Tuesday.  And by week's end I was ready to commit myself.  That is, if the rest of the pueblo didn't commit me first.  This is a Three Act Drama so be patient.

ACT 1:  Set in the middle of Calle de los angeles in front of Mohammed, the lone Morrocan guy's, discount shop.  Keke (track coach and sometimes firefighter) rolls up to Village Idiot (played by me).

Keke:  Hey!  How's it going?  We've missed you at RunClub this past week, everything alright?
Village Idiot:  We're hanging in there.  We've had a house full of sick kids.  Nothing major, just a nasty cold but it's knocked everyone out.  That, and then there's the car.
Keke:  The car?
Village Idiot:  Well, our car has finally arrived at the port but now it's a matter of how long it will be tied up in customs.  Joe will likely be heading to Valencia early next week to pick it up.
Keke:  That's great, isn't it?
Village Idiot:  Well yeah, except it means I'll probably have to miss one or two more practices. 
Keke:  Oh, don't worry about it.  You know where to find us.  We'll look forward to seeing you towards the end of the week.  Are you running today?
Village Idiot:  (Thinking he's referring to the race in Sevilla that actually occurred the night before)  Me?  Oh no.  I can't, no car.  Remember?
Keke:  (Looking quizzically) Uh, yeah.  Right, no car.  Well, we'll see you later in the week.  Take care...
Village Idiot:  You too. Oh and have a great time (referring to last night's race in Sevilla)!


ACT II:  Set about 200 meters down the block from the encounter with Keke.  Fellow teammate, Miguel, and his family drive by, honk and wave to Village Idiot.

Village Idiot:  Hey (waving spastically)!  You guys heading out now?
Teammate: (smiles) Yeah.  We're on our way.
Village Idiot:  Well have a fantastic time!  Good luck!
Teammate: (pauses, smile fades) Uh, yeah.  Okay. 
Village Idiot: It's gonna be great, you'll see!  Take lots of pictures for me, okay?   Bye!!
Teammate:  (nods and waves) Adios...



ACT III:  Set at the Village Idiot's house later that afternoon.  Paqui drops by for a quick visit.

Village Idiot:  So what time are you heading out?
Paqui:  Heading out?  For where?
Village Idiot:  For Sevilla.
Paqui:  Sevilla? 
Village Idiot:  The race, silly.  Aren't you running tonight?
Paqui:  You mean 'ran'.  The race was last night.
Village Idiot:  But I just saw Keke and Miguel heading out of town.  We just talked about it.
Paqui:  Well, I don't know what you talked about but I'm telling you that the race was last night.  I was there, trust me.  And so were they.  I rode in Miguel's car for crying out loud.
Village Idiot:  Then where were they going if it wasn't the race?
Paqui:  Someone died, a mutual friend I think.  They were on their way to the funeral.

Close curtain.