...but you can't take the American out of the girl. At least, not this girl. I realize this as G, P, and I (sacrilege alert) are walking to the metro eating our tangerines, riding the subway eating pita and carrots dipped in hummus, then walking to gymnastics while having Asian pear slices and cookies. I am wearing my fleece tied around my waist. I might as well just attach a flashing neon sign to myself saying, "AMERICAN!" And yet, I don't care. First of all, I have to tell you that we do not get one single dirty look. Frankly, we don't even attract any notice (well, not that I notice anyway). However, when I tell an American friend who has lived here several years about what we've just done, she gasps in horror.
Having lived in Japan 20+ years ago, where I would get stared at just for looking, well, non-Japanese, I quickly learned not to care about what other people think of me. I used to eat in Japan in public all the time, and I'm certainly not going to stop here! Let's face it, Anthony, the girls, and I are always hungry. It's like our whole family has a tapeworm. Our grocery bills are enormous, and I've actually seen P, at age 4 mind you, eat 3 scrambled eggs, 2 pieces of bacon, a huge bowl of fresh fruit with yogurt and granola, and a couple pieces of toast, then come whining to me half an hour later that she's hungry.
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