aah finally! I figured out what that feeling of incompatibility (similar to a tingly feeling in your eye which no matter how much you rub, pull, squash are stretch it stays put, and finally you decide to stop trying to make it go away, even though it is bloody irritating)..was.

Why ain't I all that comfortable on high heels (even if I like them so), and why don't I feel that instinctive need to spend hours every morning doing my hair and applying layers of foundation? I am woman.. I feel it boiling in my blood but I've always had the suspision that the boiling womanly blood in my veins doesn't exactly boil in the same way as other women's.

Today I finally saw what that tingly feeling is. Women that spend hours on makeup and on their hair(which most of the time, after all those hours of care, still turns out STRAIGHT and plain), women that seem as comfortable on sky-high heels as I would feel on a gigantic goose-feather pillow, women whose hair stays in place no matter which gale-force wind is blowing, women who manage to keep their lipgloss no matter how much vodka-coke they drink.. and I could go on forever.. well, these women all fit in one, of two catergories which classify in a very simple manner all the women of the world. The OUTs and the INs.

The outs are the ones you see. You notice them immediately, with all your senses. These are the women referred to in quotes such as "I was in Italy last week, and the women there are gorgeous." They were genetically programmed to want to be seen, and they have a very high self esteem which is constantly alimented by other people. These women have a natural charm, a magnet which draws all types and kinds of people.

The Ins, on the other hand are the invisible type. They feel people's gazes burn into their skins and they have a natural inclination towards walking in shadows (of trees AND of other people) and talking in inaudable pitches of volume. They might be pleasant to look at, but they spend time cultivating not their outer skin, but the massive world within them. They are so connected with what is inside them that many times they become translucent. The one thing that they have in common is that none of them is ever the lucky protagonist of the famous viral infection: love-at-first-sight.

And before I start sounding like one of those quizes were you get classified an &(£$_ if you scored a majority of As.. I want you to understand that both categories are beautiful, because both are women. However.. being a proud (even if genetically forced) member of the latter category, I vote for the Ins, and invite you to look better at people who don't jump into your focus, listen better to their ideas and check out their ass a lill bit longer. cheers.

Dieters guide to salads around Malta (3)

It was Friday yet again, and yet again I was sitting at a restaurant, "in" our beautiful capital city, very very close to the water. The first thing that struck me (if you exclude a happy-go-lucky coackroach taking a strall from one dustbin to the other and amazingly not being flattened to death by anyone of the many feet (and respective owners) around) ... was the enormity of the dining area, which was indeed packed to the last chair. Having said so, the second thing that struck me was not that no one except me had noticed the above mention HUGE cockraoch, but that there was an average of 1 waiter per 15 tables. It doesn't take an atomic calculator to deduce that the service was comparable to the speed of a limping, sleeping snail.

How long did it take for the drinks to find their way to our lips? Precisely an hour, and we only had a "bottle" (barely enough to fill a glass) of water, and a soft drink. I did not blame the waiters, they were keeping up all too well with the chaos and out of proportion clientele. There just should have been many more hands on deck.

As form of enetertainment, while we now waited for our food, we had quite a loud table of people, who laughed loud, talked loud and complained loud. Mind you, I have nothing against a hearty complaint, but it has to be audable only by the waiter, in order, first of all, not to embarrass him/her and secondly not to be labelled, hehh, loud.

So finally our food was delivered to our table. His plate really smelled and tasted (yes.. i allowed myself a bite) delicious. The sauce of this plate of pasta was divine.. maltese sausage and the wonderful aftertaste of wine. Sublime. My salad was also very well presented, and not over adorned with dressing, a plus for the chef who kept in mind that people who order salads are people who aim at eating something with less fats than a normal plate. It was nothing complciated really, just an assortment of lettuce, tomatoes olives and feta..and that's exactly what I was looking for. I barely finished my plate. Another plus for this one was that the feta was not the marinated type, but it was fresh tasting rather then squashy and sour.

Unfortunately I was freezing cold after over 2 hours of sitting in the fresh night air, so we quickly summoned the bill and ran off home. If I had to grade this place it would be an eight on ten for food, but two on ten for service. That would give it an over all grade of five on ten. A shame really.