Along the beach, where all the bars and restaurants and fancy hotels are, there was a parking lot-ish area cluttered with little food vendors and clothing stands, loose-fitting dresses billowing in the wind. I wanted a dress but feigned interest, didn’t want to bargain or barter until my peripheral vision captured just what I was looking for.
A tiny Bajan woman with extraordinarily small features asked if I was “a’browsin.” I liked the way she said that and replied “yes.”
The dress was mid-calf length, asymmetrically cut, brown with purple tie-die on the front and green on the sides, at the hem. The woman said the dress was perfect for me because I’m tall and then she flexed her arms like body builders do.
“Oh yeah?” I said, amused, “because I’m a big girl, you mean?”
She laughed and nodded in agreement. “Yes, yes!” she exclaimed, “The men will call you a STRONG woman!”
I liked the way she said that too, and I bought the dress.
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