And by the way, you haven’t lived till you’ve had to buy “prodotti femminili” in Italy from a teenaged girl running a shop, in the presence of your two teenage sons. She made sure I understood the two kinds, the kind that stays outside and the kind that goes inside. She then looked at me as if I was some kind of floozyish tart for choosing the latter. For God’s sake, don’t even get me started on the ironies here…they’re topless at the beach, and then this prudishness? Spare me.
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