Rebecca A. Foster

Spanish culture places a high value on fun, which is why I believe boring is worse than bad. So when a man is repeatedly selfish/kinda jerky, I should immediately walk away, right? But if he's fun, I don't always right away. I'm not proud of this. Just keepin' it real, son. I showed the Nike ' Write the Future ' commercial in my employee training class this week and when Ronaldo came on screen, the guys immediately started with the "He's a douchebag" Ronaldo screed. I counterargued, "But he's so hot!" Which is true. You see, it's not that Ronaldo is NOT a jerk/douchebag, it's that I don't care. Don't need to. To a varying degree, this is also true of men I know: if I don't want to date them, it doesn't matter too much how selfish they are, or how often they contact or want to see me, as long as I have fun when they do. (Many guys I like I don't want to date seriously, for various reasons. And that goes bo...

My new bike. Not as cute as the other one, but this one has 7 gears instead of 1 (I live on a mountain slope so this is pretty nice) and was in stock and on sale. Sold. 8:30 PM: Outside the store. My brother and I realize my bike will not fit on his car's mountain bike rack because it's a GIRL's bike, so the bars are in a different places. Oops. 8:45 PM: We finally jimmy-rig a way to fit the bike in his car (my dad's truck is at the ranch house, my car is smaller than his) with the trunk shut and everything. I think my brother is secretly an engineer in his spare time. 9:00 PM: Get the bike in the back parking lot behind my building to test out the seat height with my brother watching me. I stand next to a fence for balance, because I haven't been on a bike in 2 years and I'm a bit shaky. I insist on wearing my helmet (silver), because this was engrained in me in China. I take a short ride around the parking lot. 9:02 PM: While getting off the bike my...

This morning, in my bleary-eyed state, I succeeded, without trying, in putting my bra on inside -out. When I realized my mistake, I couldn't get it off, because it's really hard to hook and unhook an inside-out bra? I have no idea how I managed this without even trying? This is what I get for putting on a bra before noon on Saturday. Either that, or I really missed my calling.

I bought a new bra recently and didn't notice until I got home that it had built-in nipple flowers; like these, but already embedded: Nipples are so racy. Why? I mean, I've seen the effect they can have on men, but I don't get it. Mens' and womens' breasts are different, but their nipples are a lot the same. Men's nipples are no big deal, so why are women's? I mean, sure, if the breast is naked, it's a little racy. But nipples through clothing? You know they're there, right? We're not human Barbie dolls. Why is it so shocking to see nipples through clothing? I also saw this blog post a few days ago; looks like I am not alone in my nipple pondering. My favorite bras are sheer lace, because to me they are the most comfortable. But have you been to a bra section lately? It's like now lace bras are the realm of Fredericks of Hollywood, because it's just row after row of thick fabric, padded bras. I don't remember when this happe...

One of my weaknesses is being able to forgive, move on and/or let go of the past; that is, not allow my present to be colored by the past. I read an analogy that clicked with me: falling leaves from a tree. If trees didn't let their leaves fall and die each winter, they'd have no room for new growth in the spring. It's a part of nature that plants and trees let go of the old to prepare for the new. I never would have compared myself to this process without reading that, but it brought me some measure of comfort. I'm a visual person, so I needed that symbolism to help me understand why it's necessary to forgive and let go. I vacillate between knowing there are people who should not be a part of my life and making that clear to them, and the sadness of wishing circumstances were different and they could be a healthy part of my life. In some cases (luckily very few and far between) that's just not possible. I both fear and miss them. It's been a hard thing...

I have many declarations. My long-term favorite is "He/She/It is dead to me." I can hold a grudge like a hiker holding onto a ledge. It's a real talent. But last night R. and I were gchat video chatting (I love R.; she is, quite simply, awesome) and she said, "You know what sucks about being home? I can no longer excuse things by saying, 'Ain't no shame in China.'" She's right. "Ain't no shame in China" is a declaration I made about a year in, when I stopped being polite and started being real. (Ha! Old-school, in the house!) It became our rallying cry: Get hooked on Gossip Girl and actually discuss it with friends? Ain't no shame in China. Drink 120 proof Chinese liquor too quickly and puke all over your hotel room like a college kid? Ain't no shame in China. Kiss a guy in a bar (twice! In two different bars!) you'd never have kissed in America? Ain't no shame in China. Wear mismatched clothing and lots of c...

I saw this picture on the internet and laughed out loud, because over the past year or so in Chongqing the trend has become for girls to wear control top pantyhose under their teeny-tiny shorts, so that the line of the control top shows below the line of the shorts. To them, this is very sexy and provocative. To us, it was a fashion faux pas! But if the picture is any indication, maybe it'll catch on here too? I've mentioned this before, but having bare legs is a little bit of a taboo in the city where I lived-- you can wear shorts and skirts with a 1/2 inch inseam, no problem, just don't have bare legs. And always wear high heels. In Chongqing, women literally wear high heeled shoes even when climbing mountains. It never stopped amazing me. It was always interesting to me the cultural differences in what is provocative in China vs. America. Probably the biggest other difference I noticed was cleavage: sexy and shown off in America, not so much in my city. My student...

1. Over the weekend I had to wait for something and there were very few places to sit, but two seats were open: one next to a Caucasian guy, and one next to an Asian guy. And it was really crowded, so I sat next to the Asian guy, because I thought he might be better with me being really close to him. This is awful, but true. Also, he didn't flinch at all when I sat right next to him. Related: the first time someone here apologized after bumping into me, I almost laughed out loud. I hadn't even noticed they did it. 2. I had dinner with a friend of a friend at a Chinese restaurant, and we decided to order family style. This is how pretty much all my Chinese meals in China were eaten so I am very comfortable with this. But I guess to him, family style meant "sharing" not "eating out of the same plates of food." So I inadvertently grossed him out by sticking my own chopsticks in the plate of Kung Pao Chicken. I guess I'm not ready to be taken out in publ...

The last time I flew to America from China I took Air China, which has a Chinese flight crew. This time I took United, which meant we had an American flight crew. The young Chinese guy in the row ahead of me brought a lot of carry-on luggage, and I watched through culturally enlightened eyes the way the flight attendant tried to deal with him. She was being so American! And he was being so Chinese! She kept telling him that it wasn't fair for him to have three bags, because it meant that someone else wouldn't have space for their luggage. And he kept answering in a very Chinese way: "But my bags are already here, and they fit." And she kept right on with her very American line of reasoning that the fair thing to do is to check some of his bags. And he wouldn't give an inch, because he didn't see why he should. In China, if you're first, you win. And that's that. And I'm watching this go on for 5 or so minutes and I want to tell this woman, "...

So, true story: when I was around 7-8 years old I thought stripping was the best thing ever. I wanted to be a stripper when I grew up, and I used to put on my dad's soundtrack to The Sting , crank up Hooker's Hooker , put on all the clean clothes from the laundry room and play stripper for hours in the living room. (I always stopped at my own clothes! I only took off the extra laundry!) My parents, being the laid-back parents they are, didn't freak out or chasten me for playing stripper. In fact, I don't remember them ever saying anything to me about it, ever. And one day, I just stopped thinking I wanted to be a stripper. Please note that at age 8, I had only a marginal idea of what strippers actually did; I thought it was just wearing pretty clothes and dancing, two things I still think are pretty awesome. As an adult, I asked my dad why he never told me to stop playing stripper or to stop saying that when I grew up, I wanted to be a stripper. And my dad told me, ...

The tour guide who led me around JinSha Relic Site gave me a mic to wear so we could keep in touch while I checked things out close up. Related: I think he had been trained how to conduct tours for Westerners because he stood really far away from me at all times. I couldn't figure out if he were standing unnaturally far away, or if I have just become so accustomed to having no personal space it seemed super far away but was actually normal Western spacing. I think this means I'm totally going to embarrass myself in America by standing 6 inches from someone in line at Target.* But I digress.... So he and I were both wearing mics, and mid-way through the tour I needed to use the bathroom. I went on my way and it wasn't until I was washing my hands that I realized my mic was still on. OOPS. I was mortified! I hope that either A: we were far enough out of range of each other that he couldn't hear me or B: he turned his mic off. Note to self: when peeing, turn off all t...

Earlier this year I was in the airport in Guangzhou, one of the manufacturing hubs of China. I met in Irish businessman who was in town setting up a business deal for a factory to produce purified ice machines, then place the machines at markets throughout China. This sounds like a great idea, right? Go to the market, buy a bag of drinkable ice on the way out. We do it in North America all the time. But...this is China. Problems I foresee with this business: 1. People here don't like icy drinks. 2. Not only do they not like them, they think they are harmful to the stomach and spleen. I had a cold, bought some chilled (not cold!) bottled water, and a student was so adamant I should not be drinking cool water if I'm sick, I had to put it in my bag and drink it after she left. 3. Cold water here is generally full of bacteria and metals. There's a reason why boiled water is served everywhere: it's clean. According to custom, you don't take cold water from people...

Well, this has been quite a week. I guess what happens when you actually start having fun in China is that you lose the time to write about it. It's Saturday night here and I am blissfully staying home and going to bed early. It was a great holiday week, but super-busy. I'm glad for a night off from the fun and frivolity. So many parts of my Chinese life that were different and unexpected are now normal to me, to the extent that I forget to write about them!  But here's one I was reminded of today: in a public bathroom with multiple stalls, instead of waiting at the head of the stall line for the next available stall, you have to go stand in front of a stall and wait for it to become empty. And it seems like I always choose the wrong stall and have to wait longer than someone who came in behind me. I have bad bathroom stall karma! There must be some secret to determining which stall will be empty next, but I have yet to figure it out. Maybe by the time I go home next year...

Pizza Hut was one of the first Western restaurants to open branches in mainland China, back in the early 90's, and they're very fancy and upscale and I feel weird eating at them. Also, expensive! Here's a photo of a Chinese Pizza Hut interior: Pretty romantic, eh? They have the basic pizzas you can order in the U.S., but also some local specialties. A few of us went to Pizza Hut earlier this month (for only the third time since I've been here), and Mike ordered this tubular creation: And I hate to say it, but it kinda grossed me out, because it reminded me of these*... ...and no way did I want little stinging sausages shooting out of bread tubes at me while I'm eating dinner. *sea anemones

"By heaven, I do love, and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be melancholy." Love's Labour Lost , IV.III.332 My problem: boring is worse than bad. I consistently fall for guys whose intentions are not kind, but also not boring. In my dating life, I'm a sad girl with a lot of fun stories. At least I have melancholy to remember them by. Still working on the rhyming. And you know what? I have a kind heart and perhaps naive intentions, but manage to not bore myself. I'd love to meet a guy like that. Also, I love Lortab.

I found this in my purse; evidently I love hotel room keys and can't bring myself to turn them in when I check out. I did the same thing in NYC, but found it in my pocket when I grabbed my Metro card on the way to the ceremony, prompting the dash back to the hotel with the best man to properly check out, prompting his cute line about having the rings with him, prompting me to think he is darling. Anyway, if you ever go on vacation with me, don't let me be in charge of the room key, mmmkay? In Vegas I grabbed a key because I was the last one out sunbathing, my fair-skinned friends are sun-wussies. On one occasion their abandoned chairs were taken by a group of five handsome men. Hooray for wuss friends, right? Except...I was on my stomach reading a magazine, put my head down to close my eyes for a minute, and too lazy to move the magazine. Do you know what tanning oil and sweat do to ink? I do...now. It transfers it to your skin rather well. I got up shortly thereafter to leave...

I subscr ibe to the sociocultural theory that on a subconcious level, straight men want to sleep with women who look like they have a high rate of fertility (large chest, curvy waist, youthful in appearance etc., and yes ewww calling it that, but what else do you call it?), while straight women want to sleep with men they think would make good genetic partners.* I also think this is why men sometimes get tagged as shallow creatures who'll "sleep with anything" whereas women are deemed less promiscuous. We're not, we're just using different criteria. If you met 100 men who fulfilled the genetic criteria, you'd be attracted enough to want to sleep with those 100 men. Men get some broader leeway, as she just has to look like someone who could get knocked up, if they so desired. (Whether the man or the woman actually wants to accomplish these tasks is beside the point. This is subconscious desire, not conscious logic.) Men want to perpetuate their genes, women wan...