IN THE 'BUF': HARD ON A BOMBSHELL

 

No. Seriously.
Please tell me these are not my thighs.Because last night when I went to bed, they were slender, toned and cellulite free. Apparently, when I merely looked at the mashed potatoes during dinner with my precious Mister Man, the spuds jumped off of the plate and landed right there on my body, clinging for dear life. Never having been an extremist, but always making an effort to condition my body, this newfound reality of gravity finally taking over was terribly upsetting, to say the least. I was officially getting old. And was it just my imagination? Or did the villain’s breast fairy come to my home overnight with a magic wand causing my once perky, tear shaped breasts to look as if they were sobbing and trying their best to become knee pads?
My heart began beating faster as I flung on the light switch. I looked so closely at my face in the mirror that the steam from my nostrils left two perfect round dots on the glass. Nearly naked and standing in the most unflattering and uncomfortable position trying to investigate my backside; my mister man scared me to death as he walked through our bedroom door. Busted.
“Hi honey, I’m home” Deafening silence. Equally as shocked, his head now cockeyed and his eyebrow curiously raised, I stood frozen like a deer in headlights holding my awkward position. “Uhhh… what’s going on in here…honey, you…okay?” I tried to act calm and collected as I grabbed my robe to cover my new body. “Yoga dear. Good old yoga…just thought I would try out a little yoga this morning.” Wow. No words. I managed to come up with a fake goofy smile and passed him by as if this was an ordinary event.
Years ago, my mother gave me a wonderful piece of advice that I will never forget. Don’t ever point out your flaws to people or that is all they will notice. So you can bet I didn’t bring up the yoga episode over dinner or ask if he too, had noticed what the potatoes had done to my thighs as we slept last night.
Obviously true love should be founded on more than just physicality, because ultimately, if we are lucky, we all look like shriveled up little raisins in the end. And after all, few things are more touching than sitting on a bench at the park watching two little raisins strolling by, holding hands. That is true beauty.
Later in the evening over dinner and wine, I couldn’t help contemplate all of my failed relationships and wondered if my man and I would end up as little raisins. I wanted so badly to ask if he was still attracted to me. Did he still think I was pretty? I casually picked through my salad in an effort to act as if nothing was wrong while shamefully catching myself fantasizing about his spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread.
I was thrilled when he turned the conversation to Derby day, of which we had attended just a few days prior. It was our first time with tickets to Millionaires row, rubbing elbows with all of the super stars and wealthy people. My mister man could still not contain himself from laughter about the fact that I somehow got the heel of my 4-inch spiked shoe lodged between Cheryl Crow’s first and second toe.The injury wasn’t debilitating, but she did have to go to the First Aid station to get treated. He almost choked on his meatball, tears rolling down his cheek as he tried to describe the look on my face at the time of the incident. As embarrassing as the situation was, his enthusiasm was contagious and before I knew it, we were both literally crying and snorting with laughter.
To think that just a few hours earlier, I wondered if he was looking at all of the beautiful superstars wishing he could be sharing dinner and wine with them instead of me. After all they were perfect. Perfect teeth, perfect hats, perfect everything. And in my most prestigious moment of fabulousness, I manage to seriously injure Sheryl Crow’s toes.
“You’re my Lucy, which is what I love the most about you,” He offered up his glass of wine for a toast. “Not to mention, you were the prettiest girl at the derby. “ I was speechless. Yeah, getting old is hard on a bombshell; but being appreciated for all of the right things is beautiful.


Posted on 2011-06-06 by Buffy Lawson
Advertisement