One of the nice things about leaving the village and visiting the 'real world' is getting to wear nice clothes (heels even!) and having the time to put more effort into my appearance.
The day after we arrived in Ndola I was dressed up and ready for the dentist. Troy looked at me and asked why I was wearing mascara.
I want to look pretty.
You do know you are married, right, Mom?
The next day when I put my makeup on, Troy talked to me again:
I don’t know why you wear that stuff.
What’s the problem?
Well, guys will see you.
And, what’s the problem with that?
They might flirt with you.
Well, you might flirt back.
Yep, my son after eight years in Africa has traveled way back to the beginning of the last century where putting color on the face was considered equal to prostitution. Poor deluded little child!