Today I was called a "fox" for the second time in my 27-year history of being one - hopefully not my last. This marvelous moment occured shortly after 10:30 a.m. on my way to yoga class whilest crossing Colfax Avenue. The person in question (or adoration) was a homeless man wearing Ray Bans. It was however my first solo "fox" identification. The first one was several years ago in Georgetown with a group of gals and we were called "stone cold foxes." To this day I'm not exactly sure if that's a compliment.
Several things I've noticed about being called a fox:
1) Usually the man is over the age of 60 (from what I can tell),
2) It always (all two times) catches me off guard and doesn't seem to have any sort of warning mechanism, and
3) Doesn't seem to be accompanied with conversation or a whistle.
All these things considered I'm still feeling pretty foxy and several hours have passed!
Today I'm grateful for Colfax, fresh veggies, and my sugar detox.
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