Samba

Only a few, cold wintry days of work left before the Hottie and I jet off to the warmer, friendlier climes of Brazil!  (A trip largely designed and organized by an INSEAD alumn's newly minted private travel company, which is a fun bonus).

But there's a "hic" as the French say (pronounced, appropriately enough, 'Eek!')  No, no, not some Appalachian redneck (apologies) but a snag.  A hitch.  A teensy weensy problemo.

In the nine-odd months since I last wore warm-weather clothes my body has, how should I put it - somewhat expanded its horizons.  The Swiss call it the Raclette-Equator.

I call it stress.

Anyways, as most women know, when you run into this kind of hic, the only clothes that still (more or less) fit are your dresses.  Especially the light, airy, flowy ones.

Which means that next week you will find me paragliding over the beaches of Rio in a dress. 

That's right, a dress.

I'm sure to be a hit with the locals.