AND WE'RE BACK

It's been a while since my last post, and now I'm breaking radio silence one month into my second year in Japan.  My month long blogging hiatus was marked by a milestone: celebrating the one year anniversary of my move to Nara.  I fittingly spent the occasion in America, with a cheeseburger in one hand, and my oh-so-perfect nephew in the other.  Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me this far, and here's to another year of crazy stories from the Land of the Rising Sun.

HOT POTATO (WITH A CORPSE)

One of the big draws of Nara is its sacred deer, population 1,000.  The Shinto religion believes that the deer are messengers from the gods, and as such, must be treated with reverence. Mistreatment or killing of the deer was made a criminal offense after protein-starved locals started poaching from the herd around the time of World War II.  The legislation also spawned a new tradition among the Nara denizens that persists today.  Every morning, homeowners wake up early to inspect their lawns and confirm that a deer has not dropped dead overnight on their property.  Should they find a corpse, the practice is to sneakily move the animal into their neighbor's yard before city authorities find out and start making accusations.

I have no data on how many times a deer carcass has been moved in one morning.

THE BUSINESS OF GROUPTHINK

Japan has been in the news quite a bit lately, not for achieving Olympic glory (though Japan did recently win the Little League World Series) or technological breakthroughs, or other positive developments. Rather, the country has been critiqued for some of its economic and business practices.  First, there was a rather damning article on the penalization of Japanese students who choose to study abroad.  Even graduates with degrees from top-notch institutions like Harvard or Oxford have had a difficult time finding work in Japan.  In fact, many of them were blackballed, because their Western training made them appear unsuitable for integration within Japanese professional culture.  It doesn't take an MBA to see how backwards this is in today's global market.  Equally surprising was the backlash surrounding the announcement by at least one Japanese company that it had taken the drastic step of making English the mandatory language of daily operations.

Rakuten Inc., a competitor of Amazon.com, made waves when its CEO announced that company employees would be expected to communicate almost exclusively in English in their day-to-day tasks, with the implication that any employee falling short of those standards could look elsewhere for work.  The gambit is that by increasing English fluency across the organization, Rakuten will make itself more accessible internationally, as well as more competitive, which will hopefully eventually widen their profit margin.

The final standout article I read recently had to do with the strength of the yen. Several visitors and prospective visitors have complained about the yen-dollar exchange rate.  "Doesn't Japan want to attract tourism?" reasoned my uncle (correctly).  One would think.  However, a year in Japan has taught me that often the most obvious solutions are the least employed.  According to the piece above, the yen is kept at an artificially high level in order to protect the large aging population here.  The stronger the yen, the cheaper various imports are, making it easier for the elderly to live in relative comfort.  Conversely, however, Japanese exports are more expensive, making them less competitive with goods from other countries.  This has really hurt Japanese businesses, many of which are losing big clients, or having to take drastic steps, like relocating to other countries in Asia, where the cost of overhead is lower and conditions are more advantageous for businesses.  A key quote from one such entrepreneur who moved his factory to Vietnam: "Pretty soon, nothing will be made in Japan anymore."

One positive is that the Japanese seem determined to do their part to keep the economy afloat with ceaseless shopping.  I've always thought shopping was an errand you ran, but the Japanese make it into a national pastime.  The best of all worlds is to take a trip to Korea, where you can buy the same goods for a fraction of the price.  

THE CRUDENESS OF CRUDITE

When it comes to my midday meal, I am a lunch bringer, not a buyer, usually some array of leftovers from earlier in the week.  My fellow teachers are always curious about my cooking, and often come over to inspect the contents of my lunch.  Recently, carrot sticks were on the menu, to the incredulity of Panda-sensei.

Panda-sensei: "Eri, what is this?"
Me: "These? Oh, they're carrots."
PS: "Carrot? You are rabbit?"
M: "Haha, no. I just like carrots.  You don't eat raw carrots in Japan?"

I offered him one to try, which he took after making a big deal about finding the smallest stick.  He put the carrot in his mouth, bit into it, and grimaced.  Then he closed his eyes and made a gagging sound that was alarming given his proximity to me.  He opened his eyes, shook his head, and put the rest of the carrot back on my desk. "No, Eri, " he said, "No carrot.  Bad taste.  Very strange."

I asked around, and while some Japanese people said that they found raw carrots to be delicious, most of them clearly thought that I was crazy. At least I'm not alone in this experience.

CONSPIRACY THEORIES

"Hey, did you hear that one of the lost tribes of Israel may be here in Japan?"asked LAL.

I studied her closely, wondering if this remark was prompted by the cold medication she was on.

"One of the lost tribes of Israel?" I repeated.

"Tell her! Tell her what your students told you this week!" LAL exhorted her husband.

The uber-rational BAL shifted in his seat for a moment before answering.  The story goes that a group of Israelites emigrated from Israel to Japan via the Silk Road.  They became known as the Hata Clan.  Over the centuries, Jewish customs began to permeate Japanese culture.  The tokin worn on the foreheads of Buddhist priests (yamabushi) are said to be derived from the tefillin worn by Orthodox Jews.  

Yamabushi wearing tokin.  From samuraidave.wordpress.com

Representations of the mountain god Tengu are reportedly based on Western physiognomy, perhaps even King David.  

One representation of Tengu. From amazingnotes.com

The Japanese syllabary called katakana (used to transcribe foreign words into the Japanese language) is remarkably similar to Hebrew, as are certain words in both languages.  The mikoshi (portable shrines) used in Japanese religious festivals have been likened to the Ark of the Covenant.  Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.  A comprehensive list of comparisons can be found at this website, written by a self-proclaimed Japanese Christian.  

Mikoshi being carried.  From  http://pictures.nicolas.delerue.org 

Some of the evidence in support of the connections between Japanese culture and Judaism resembles material from a third-rate stand up act.  The Hata were said to be "adept in financial matters," while images of the mountain god Tengu are characterized by a large nose. Sound familiar?! The implication is that since these stereotypes are often applied to Jewish people, they only reinforce the theories.  It doesn't help that at least one rabbi from the Investigative Body Amishav and a former Israeli ambassador to Japan, Eli Cohen, have been proponents of this historical narrative.  In fact, there have been efforts by the investigative body to perform DNA testing in certain areas in Japan, in order to prove that a link exists between the Israelis and the Japanese.  As far as I know, no genetic similarities have been found.

The most radical claim made by the Japanese-Judaism experts is that when the Israelites came to Japan, they brought with them the Ark of the Covenant. The ark was then hidden within the damp limestone caves on Shikoku Island, which have since collapsed. To me, this is most far-fetched assertion.  Somehow I doubt that the caretakers of the ark would have journeyed so far, only to conceal their priceless (wooden) treasure in a place where it was sure to sustain massive water damage. Apparently other people are skeptical as well; Shikoku is not listed under "Rumored current locations" on Ark of the Covenant Wikipedia page.  

Let's face it, we all know where the ark really is:

P.S. In case you want to learn even more, a TV program called "Mystery File" did a broadcast on the topic, which can be seen here: part 1, part 2, and part 3.

HEALTH CHECKS AND FEELINGS ON AMERICA

Two students recently returned from 10 months living in the US have started stopping by the staff room to chat and practice their English. Their English is pretty good, though it's become clear to me that they've picked up a very different kind of English from what their Japanese classmates are learning. Student Two, who lived in Indiana, kept dropping words like "sketchy," and the sarcastic use of the word "classy" in conversation. Student One, who lived in Georgia, told me that she had become quite the connoisseur of "black English," because many of her friends in Georgia are black. Even though I've heard the term "black English" from other Japanese people before, it still shocks me. I have to resist the urge to climb up on my soap box and deliver an impromptu lecture on why that term is offensive and wrong. I'm not sure that it would make much of a difference. Japan has no real point of comparison to the history of race issues in the United States. They have some abstract notion of it, such as one teacher whose subject is civics. He was talking to his class about the upcoming American presidential election. To prep for his lesson, he asked me about Romney and Obama, before inquiring, "The color- does it matter?" and then pointed at his skin.  It took me a full minute to figure out what he was talking about, and then I was appalled. But to the Japanese, it's a legitimate question, perhaps because race and ethnicity are a huge deal in their country, mainly in that anyone who is clearly not from their country is a big deal. American students visiting our school last month got a small taste of this. When I asked them if they were enjoying their time at our high school, two of the boys said, "It's so weird- they surround us wherever we go!" To which his friend replied, "Dude, it's 'cause we're black." 

I really enjoy asking students who have studied for some period of time in the States about their impressions. Mostly, they're shocked by things like the amount of sugar used in making desserts ("So sweet! Not good!"), the fact that the doors to public toilets don't go all the way down to the ground ("There is a gap! You can see the feet!"), and public displays of affection ("They were kissing! So nice. Americans are so...open." Another student differed: "So strange."). Students One and Two had a lot to say about how much they didn't like their host families, about how great it was that American high schools let you wear makeup to school, and how high school boys are stupid. "One guy asked me if I was Asian. I was like, um, yeah." Then at some point, we veered into the topic of personal grooming. They wanted to know, do I shave my arms (as in, my actual arms, not underneath)? Why do American girls shave their legs? Japanese girls don't do that. Student Two informed me that she had started shaving her pubic hair when she found out that American girls did (how she learned this fun fact, I don't want to know), and then gave me a rundown of the various problems she'd had with making alterations to that area. "I wasn't sure how much to shave, so I just got rid of all of it." It quickly became apparent by her wide-eyed stare that Student One, if not unaware of this grooming trend, had never considered trying it out herself. Still, she weighed into the conversation by asking me, "Do boys shave down there?" There was a lot of animated pointing throughout this exchange to the various body parts concerned, all while teachers and students walked past us. Yet the discomfort of this discussion pales in comparison to what happened later in the week. 

Today marks the second day this year where I have been ambushed at school and asked to remove my clothing for a medical exam without prior warning. Of course I'm behind on laundry, so I'm wearing my less-than-reputable underwear, and I ate lunch at the usual time, even though we were supposed to fast so we could have blood drawn. There was the in-depth questionnaire about my medical history translated for me by a helpful JTE in front of the whole staff room, with other teachers chiming in. "Are you taking any medications?" "Are you going to the bathroom more than normal?" And my personal favorite: "Are you pregnant?" However, nothing rivals the joy of carrying a Dixie cup of your own urine past a queue of your coworkers, who are also waiting for their health check. 

Still, I am grateful that I don't have the job of the female lab technician whose job it is to dip litmus papers in the urine, run them through some sort of machine, and then dispose of the remaining urine in a small covered pail that looks like an ice bucket. It's the little things in life.

Apple pie for our first Japanese 4th of July celebrations

POP POP!

Ask any Japanese student what their hobby is, and 9 times out of 10, the response will be "listen to music" (gerunds, it seems, are not in vogue).  With an entire generation sequestered in rooms just sitting there, listening to music, I was curious as to what kinds of tunes were holding them captive.  Based on their responses, it appears that most of them are caught in the sticky sweet web of J-pop and K-pop (J for Japanese, K for Korean).  Oh yes, there is the occasional ode to Lady Gaga, Taylor Swift, Justin Bieber, or Avril Lavigne, but true love is reserved for the likes of Kara, Girls' Generation, EXILE, and AKB48.  The latter two groups are particularly popular; EXILE is a male group 14 performers strong, whose most notable member is named Atsushi.  Atsushi, a self-proclaimed Boyz II Men devotee, is infamous for wearing sunglasses everywhere, making him look more like a poster boy for the yakuza than a boy band.   

Atsushi. From http://item.rakuten.co.jp

AKB48, on the other hand, blows all other ensembles out of the water, with 64 members.  That's right, SIXTY. FOUR.  In fact, I read somewhere that it holds the Guinness World Record for being the largest pop group in existence.  That's not including Aimi Eguchi, AKB's "newest member," who was eventually revealed to be a fictional person, her image actually a mash up of the features of other AKB48 stars, Photoshopped together.

Aimi Eguchi.  From http://www.asianbite.com

Pop music encourages an interesting sociological study into what Japanese people find entertaining, if not attractive.  For the most part, it seems to be androgynous young males (kireo) and young women who are made to look younger than their actual age.  As one of my friends recently wrote to me after discovering an AKB48 video on YouTube: "Felt like it was sexualizing 12 year olds.  Couldn't watch.  Still listening though.  Still horrible."  Also popular are the child performers like Mana Ashida, whose hit "Maru Maru Mori Mori" is ubiquitous.  The trend appears to be that all of these acts exemplify the "cute culture" that is so popular in Japan, even though we as westerners think they are a little weird (be sure not to miss 3:28).

The merchandising for these groups is a fascinating business model.  Clothing, towels, school supplies, cell phones, and even foods are branded with various pop groups.  Need internet service? Sign up for AKB48 internet, and, among other things, you can create a virtual love child with any of the group's 64 members.  Want to ensure that your favorite AKB starlet is included in the main lineup?  You can buy a ticket and vote in the election (or hope that your choice wins in an epic janken, or rock-paper-scissors, match).  

Each year, the English Speaking Society at my high school selects one or two songs to perform in front of the entire student body at our school festival in September.  This year they've outdone themselves with two J-pop numbers, "Share the World," and "The Boys."  If you click on the links, you can hear the songs in their entirety.  I'll say no more about them, but if you do give them a listen, please try to envision me, the other (male) English teacher DL, and a group of (sweet, innocent, awkward and very young) high school girls singing and dancing along.  

GOD WILLING AND THE CREEK DON'T RISE

Greetings from a water-logged Japan.  I'm sure there's an ark floating around here somewhere... We are smack in the middle of tsuyu, or the "rainy season," and yesterday marked the 3rd typhoon we've survived in 11 months.  The weather was so dire that afternoon classes were canceled, prompting a loud cheer to go up throughout the school.  I, however, was feeling less cheerful when I arrived home from school dripping wet and had to wring out all my clothes before hanging them to dry.  On the other hand, this puts into perspective the two-piece maroon rain suit that one of my predecessors bequeathed to me.  

The real vexation of the rainy season is that it has limited my mobility, thus giving me less and less fodder for blog posts.  However, stick with me.  Rainy season has to end some time. On the upside, the hydrangeas are rioting in bloom.

STRANGER DANGER

A few months ago my supervisor suggested that I leave school early so I could "go study Japanese culture."  Wink wink.  Needing no further encouragement, I set off for home, and on the way was approached by a man I've never seen before.  "Are you a foreigner?" he asked me.  This was not a rhetorical question; he waited for me to confirm my gaijin status before he took out a bunch of business cards.  This in and of itself is not unusual- I've had teachers, strangers, even students proffer me their cards before. It's actually quite sophisticated.  But this individual took out his business cards, pointed at the kanji and said, "I am doctor."  I studied him closely.  Late thirties, pronounced limp, at home in the middle of the day wearing jeans and a rugby shirt, with a ring of some yellowish substance caked around his mouth that I don't want to think too hard about.  "Yeah, right" was my first thought.  But because I realized that he was not quite right in the head, I smiled and nodded in an attempt to play along.  A mistake, as it turns out.  It got weird after that.  First he attempted to take my pulse by barely pressing his fingers to my wrist- I suppose to demonstrate his doctor skills.  Then he motioned for me to follow him up the street (which was the way I was walking anyway).  I followed, but when he indicated that I should walk into his house, every after school special from my childhood came flooding back to me in brilliant color.  I firmly told him no and backed away, but not before he made another attempt to take my pulse.  Which I guess is better than being found dead in some guy's bathtub (which happened to a British subject a few years back), but it's still creepy.  I haven't seen the man since, but it shook my conception of Japan as a safe haven, free of the dangers that plague other countries.  

A further reminder on this point occurred last week, when the last two people involved in a deadly sarin attack on the Tokyo subway in 1995 were apprehended.  The closing of that chapter seemed to relieve a lot of people, even though we go about our daily lives without any real fear of terrorist attacks or violence.  Most of the "crime" that goes on in Japan is pretty benign: having one's bicycle "borrowed," only to have it turn up again; pick pocketing by teenage hoodlums (they could learn a thing or two from Oliver & company- more often than not they are caught in the act); and underwear thieves.  Yes, this is an actual thing.  JET orientation provides a series of warnings against drying your clothes outside (dryers are unheard of here), for fear that ladies' unmentionables will be pilfered by predatory male weirdos.  One thief was apprehended with something like 100 pairs of underwear that he had taken as trophies.  I guess the one consolation in this is that the underwear are all clean?

LET'S ALL JUST TAKE A MOMENT TO COOL DOWN

Cue the parade! Japan is now nuclear-power free, after having shut down every nuclear-based power plant in the country, as part of measures taken after the big meltdown at Fukushima.  The move may be a good one in the long run, but it couldn't have been more poorly timed.  Power shortages were egregious enough prior to the national shutdown, forcing everyone to ration electricity.  However, there is now real concern about what it will mean this summer, when the temperatures can easily reach 90-95 degrees Farenheit.  It's already hot enough in the mornings to make getting dressed for work unpleasant after having taken a cool shower.  If it gets bad enough, I'm determined to cobble together an outfit of these, professional dress code be damned.  

A couple of fun links related to Fukushima (thanks to the friends who forwarded these): hipsters in Hazmat suits equipped with Geiger counters, and why nuclear meltdowns are like a woman.  


DON'T LOOK, DON'T TOUCH


Shortly after I turned in my notice at my previous job, I received an email from one of the founding partners of the law firm, summoning me to his office.  As a lowly paralegal, I was surprised; the longest conversations we had had until that point involved him stopping me in the hallway to ask if I had ever been windsurfing, and another time, to tell me about his latest vacation to a private island, where Kenny Chesney apparently lives.  However, based on these interactions, we clearly had a lot in common, and I was sure we'd have a lot to talk about during our impromptu meeting.

It turned out that RS wanted to discuss my move to Japan, and to recount to me his days as an associate, during which he lived in Tokyo for a few months while working on a project.  Then the talk turned serious as he said, "Listen, you really need to be careful of Japanese businessmen. I've heard a lot of stories about women, particularly white women, who have been harassed by some of these guys."  I thanked him for his concern, but pointed out that as a school teacher living in the countryside, I probably wouldn't interact with too many Japanese businessmen.  He reiterated the warning a couple of more times, and ended our tete-a-tete by admonishing me for a final time to be careful.  


And guess what? He was right, except that instead of being harassed by Japanese businessmen, I am groped and inspected daily by pretty much everyone at school, but particularly my hormonal high school students.  They play with my hair, measure my waist with their hands.  I've had a couple of students wrap their arms around me, bury their face in my shirt, and take a deep whiff.  "Smell good," they say.  One girl motioned that she thought I was thin.  "You're skinnier than I am!" I told her.  "No!" she shook her head, and then pointed at me and held her hands out in front of her chest, as though something had exploded.  Then there's the commentary: "You have tall nose!" "You have small face!" "Nice body!" "Sexaaaayyyy!"  And those are just the girls.  Earlier this week, I ran into one of my male students on my way to school.  Waiting at a stop light, we started talking, and he kept fingering the sleeve of my shirt, and at one point grazed the side of my torso with the back of his hand.  When the light changed, he looked straight at my chest, said, "Sexy!" and quickly pedaled off on his bike.  DL is not immune either.  Yesterday we were walking out of school together, and he said, "The most inappropriate thing happened to me today.  I walked into one of my classes, and this first year asked me, 'D, do you have big penis?'"  "That's terrible!" I told him.  "I know, right?" he said, "The worst part was that he said it so timidly.  I mean, if you're going to ask me a question like that, at least have the balls ask it confidently!"

The teachers cross the line, too.  The jokes about the male teachers who are "bad men," the comments if I wear a skirt instead of pants one day.  And there's no defense against it, no matter how conservatively I dress.  Maybe it's something about being a piece of meat foreigner.  LAL speculates that foreigners are kind of an outlet for the pent-up longings, because the Japanese think we're so liberal sexually.  However, I don't know of many (if any) foreigner here who is comfortable with these attentions, particularly the really brazen ones.  MB was walking through his class one day, when a female student reached out and pinched his butt.  He was really upset and shaken about the whole thing, and I don't blame him.  Not only is it a gross violation of one's personal space, but it's such a dangerous game.  Luckily, I don't think any adult here would suspect us of being improper with the students, but you can never be too sure.  It also makes our jobs so much more difficult, because when these awkward episodes occur, it makes us check our friendliness, and puts more distance between us and the students.   

Forget the ice suit.  I'm going to start wearing boxes to work.

THE TRUTH WILL OUT

During my parents' recent visit, they had an opportunity to meet the grannies. This was fun for my parents, and therapeutic for the grannies, who now had an opportunity to vent some of their closely-held opinions of me, the nearly-thirty, unmarried foreign woman.  These were the comments that stuck out: 

As I was setting the table for dinner: "Aha! She will make a good wife for someone."

Mr. M to my father: "Bill-san, I have three daughters, and I know how you must feel that she is not married.  You must be very worried." [To my father's everlasting credit, he did not respond to this.]

A DAY IN THE LIFE

It's been gently suggested that I should include more photos of "daily life" in Japan.  So here you go:

Preparing the rice fields.  A family of ducks is loving this right now.

"Thanks Dad"- Japanese dept. store

Shots from a temple behind my house

WORSHIPPING THE PORCELAIN GOD

Last week I walked into the granny circle to find that their chosen topic for the evening was toilets.   In the hour and a half that followed, we discussed our best and worst public toilet experiences, debated over how often foreign tour companies should allow for toilet breaks in their itineraries (the group had strong opinions on this point), pondered why sanitation varies across countries, and compared different styles of toilets internationally.  Somewhat predictably, the Japanese-designed Western toilet won out in the international competition, having gained high marks in the categories of sanitation, promotion of personal hygiene (the bidet is crucial, the grannies argue), and overall comfort.   Most of these accolades are warranted; the standardization of heated toilet seats alone ranks as one of the greatest inventions of all time.  However, the bidet still skeezes me out.  

The top panel

6 buttons, one toilet

The Japanese-designed Western toilet is like a rocket ship with varying functions and amenities. During a recent visit from my parents, my mother became enamored of the toilets in their various hotel rooms.  As they moved from city to city and hotel to hotel, she provided for me a rundown of each facility: "So this one has a lot of buttons and that toilet seat warmer,  but I really prefer the one at the Granvia."  By "the one at the Granvia," she meant to throne she dragged me in to see one day when I went to collect them for a day of sightseeing.  "Look!" she exclaimed, "You stand there by the sink, and then walk over to the toilet and then a motion sensor raises the toilet lid!"  She demonstrated this for me before continuing, "And then you sit on the seat and do your business, and when you stand up, the toilet flushes, and after a few minutes, the toilet lid goes down again!"  Lest you think that I am poking fun at my mother for this performance, I will admit that I was also impressed, to a point where I made a video.

The one catch of the premier Japanese toilets is that they rarely come with English labels on the buttons.  As such, I have experienced various traumas whilst in the loo.  First, I emerged wet from my shoulders to my knees at a restaurant after I mistakenly hit the bidet button instead of the flush toggle, and was sprayed for several seconds as I scrambled to find the "stop" button with increased futility.  Then there was the incident at the Kobe port, where I accidentally hit the emergency button in the handicapped toilet (again in lieu of the flush- these toilets are tricky!), and a Japanese woman standing outside with two children tried to break in to help me.  Once she realized I was all right, she easily turned off the alarm; however, the siren could be heard throughout the terminal, and a security guard raced through the building to give me assistance.  Embarrassed doesn't do justice to the moment.


One question the grannies had was whether or not Americans have a toilet god.  A toilet god? I repeated.  Oh yes, they said.  In a long tradition spanning back generations, grandmothers had admonished their granddaughters to keep the toilet clean, telling them that if they did, they would grow up to be beautiful and find good husbands.  One young woman recently became a national sensation when she composed a song on the subject, "Toire no kamisama," or "The God of the Toilet"  Here's the song, in all its 10 minute glory:

One final note: Toilets, it turns out, can even be a tourist attraction, such as this public toilet in Ichihara City.  

DID I DO THAT?

In my pre-Japan research, a friend put me in touch with a former JET who lived in Kyoto.  We met up for lunch one day, and I encouraged her to share with me some of her most memorable moments.  For her, one such memory was the compulsory annual chest x-ray.  She was sent to a doctor's office by herself, and was told that all she would have to do was go in, have the x-ray taken, and leave.  No muss, no fuss, no removal of clothing.  So in she goes, and the first thing the doctor says is for her to take off her shirt, which she does.  Then he tells her she needs to take off something else, so she stripped off her bra, and walks back into the room, to the clearly shocked face of the elderly physician.  He takes the x-ray, and she goes back to school and says to a teacher, "I thought you said I didn't have to remove my shirt, but the doctor made me!"  The teacher, thinking this was funny business on the part of the doctor, called his office for an explanation.  "I told her to take off her necklace!" he said, "And she walked in half naked!"


Thanks to this friend, I was determined to be more savvy during my own x-ray.  Instead, I ended up writing her the following email:


I walked into school this morning and was informed that I needed to go have a chest x-ray taken.  They're doing the x-rays in the back of a camper van out by the school gym.  Very classy.  I had been told by a teacher that I didn't need to take anything off except my sweater and any jewelry, so in I went.  Once I was sitting in the "privacy area"- an upholstered bench seat behind some short curtains, the technicians told me that I needed to unzip my dress and take off my bra.  So I did.  And of course when the lady technician comes back, I'm sitting there bra-less, with the top of my dress folded down over my waist.  This seems to freak her out, so she grabs my sweater and drapes it hastily over me before ushering me into the x-ray room to where the male technician is standing.  Then I inadvertently flash him as he's situating me near the machine.

Basically, it was a good morning.