MRS WOOG’S AMERICAN ADVENTURE

Hair iron

I have just returned from two weeks in New York City. The Big Apple. The city that never sleeps. The Capital of the World. The city so nice they named it twice!

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It was my third visit there, and every time I return home not only am I stupidly exhausted, but with plenty of things to think about. I would like to share with you my thoughts on Americans.

Bravado.
Americans are stuffed full of bravado. They love winners and those who can achieve. Unlike Australians, who are only really allowed to achieve so much before they are publicly beaten back down into submission. The Olympic spirit was alive in bars all over Manhattan and they were only watching events that featured Americans. Americans winning, more specifically.

I met a lot of Americans who talked themselves up, big time. I was not used to this, as we are expected to be humble in our achievements. It was refreshing and infectious. They indeed take the Gold Medal in confidence. WORK IT, GIRLFRIEND!

 width=Bacon.
My most favourite of all pork products, in this great city it is not just confined to the breakfast menu.

No, ma’am! You can find it in ice-cream, cookies and even cupcakes. But my favourite find was a Bacon Martini, which I just could not bring myself to order. Which was strange, as it combined two of my favourite products in one glass.

Americans LOVE their bacon and consume 1.7 billion pounds of it every year. Even more, if you take the last few weeks into account… What??? I was doing my bit for the pork industry!

They say Bacon is enjoying a resurgence right now, but really, did it ever go away?

Shorts.
Did you know that you did not have to be a size 8 to wear short shorts in America? That is right. Size does not matter when it comes to dressing for a hot New York City day. The tourist uniform seemed to consist of crotch-hugging denim shorts, an I Heart NY t-shirt, trainers and socks and a I Heart NY cap. Oh, plus a bum bag that you clutch onto for dear life lest ye be rolled by a gang member… in Times Square, an area that has more police present than the entire town of Goulburn. In America, they call them Fanny Packs, which made me giggle every time I heard some short-wearing tourist from Texas yell “Dwayne, can you grab my fanny pack?”

Being fat in America is just a matter of fact and even companies like Levi are catering to this market. When I saw a rack of really, really wide jeans that I thought were made for dwarves, it took me a while to realise I was in the Little Miss Plus Sized department.

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