Nothing goes to waste in China, not styrofoam forms, not boxes, not empty water bottles. It can all be sold, by ayi to junk-dealer middle-man to who, I don’t know. But I know that it does get sold, packaged neatly, piled high on tiny 3 wheel trucks and taken away in what appears to my untrained eye to be one of the more efficient recycling systems I’ve ever seen.
Now, will you indulge me as I share a small disappointment from the evening?
To celebrate my husband’s boss’ last weekend in town, we went out, a feat in itself for the somewhat shy and homebody Dumms.
And my husband modeled the fashion of the men of Sichuan-which is to say he took his shirt, rolled up the bottom and tucked it in right on top of his rib cage, exposing his belly for all of our fellow night wanderers and my camera lens.
I’m not kidding this is how all men here wear their shirts in Chengdu. Some even take this cooling fashion it up a notch and, after rolling up their shirts, they take up a bamboo fan to gently fan a breeze across their Buddha-like round bellies.
Sadly, my husband deleted those photos of him modeling the fashion so perfectly. He deleted what I had hoped would be my “photo of the day.” For shame.
By the end of the night, after quite a few adult beverages, he was singing “I’m too sexy for my shirt” as he danced around me in his classic Chris style.
And then somehow it morphed into “I’m too sexy for disgrace” at which point I lost it. It was probably the funniest thing I had heard all night.
But Chris, my love, why oh why, if you are “too sexy for disgrace” did you delete those fabulous rolled-shirt pictures off my camera?
Now the world will just never, never know how you manage to look so handsome, even with a rolled up Hawaiian shirt around your stomach.