I’m one of only a few women in the marina. I am the only single woman. I’m tall and chubby and covered in tattoos. I stomp-walk like a supermodel and generally strike lightweight fear into the hearts of insecure people. I carry an air that makes me identifiably American at least partially because I talk to strangers a lot. All this makes me a highly describable person, an easy subject for idle chatter. Everybody on the island quickly familiarized me whereas most of the other sailors come and go without a whisper or a lingering puff of smoke.
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