Helga is telling me that she feels like she is nude in public. I am telling her that it's alright and understandable because she basically is. She is also telling me that she feels like she is walking on stilts, which is also kinda true because Moldovan stripper shoes (an important part of "smart casual" and up here) are in a class of their own.
I am not telling Helga that I feel like an elephant came on my head and someone rubbed it all in. I am not at all sure that I will ever be able to come again myself after spending the night in these pants (I am also not sure I can sit down in them but it is too late to test it). When they told me to leave my shirt unbuttoned pretty much to my waist, I did not argue with them and thought that I would just button it up in the car. That won't work, the shirt is so tight I can hardly breathe in it as is.
Anyway, we gotta go, we are late already.
PS: Moldovans seem to be aware that they would rather have too much (way too much) than not enough and like to make fun of it too: