P,
If, as you have suggested on more than one occasion, we are defined by our accessories, I’m afraid I may belong in the discount bin. Found myself considering all this as I prepared for my annual check-up for the nether regions. As I groomed for the inspection, it occurred to me I was, perhaps, unusually buoyed by the prospect of pleasing dr. gyn with my, shall we say, fluffed up parts. Although hubby frequently praises her for his own selfish purposes, he has, dare I say it, no real expertise. Even if we assume he was quite the cad in college, it is highly unlikely he has gazed upon nearly the number of lovely bits as my dr. strange love. I realized, in quite startling fashion (nearly nicked myself in fact), that I was preparing for the exam in the hopes that the good dr. might exclaim, "Dear God, I’ve seen so many of these but yours is, well, so elegant (and thin?) as to put all others to shame."
I was, needless to say, completely disappointed by the reality of the encounter. In fact, dr. burst-my-bubble had nothing to say about my well-groomed muff at all. He did have a momentary concern about some internal enlargement but backed down when I suggested abdominal excess does have several layers. As he wrote me the necessary prescriptions to deal with stay at home motherhood, I took the opportunity to look deep in his eyes and ask whether he enjoyed the job. "Oh honey, he said (did I mention he’s gay?), when you see as many of these as I do, you just learn to get through the day."
I was so despondent from my encounter that I was forced to visit Neiman’s without you. I’m still settling on which Chanel sunglasses to purchase but know this is one accessory that won’t be overlooked and, frankly, may be openly admired. I was less thrilled that the shoe guy took one look and told me to come back Thursday for the shoes I coveted as a sale was on then. I’d like to think he was merely helpful but I’m afraid he saw through my charade and knew I was just another middle-aged mother with a heart-shaped muff looking for love in all the wrong places.
Do hurry home, dear P, it’s getting awfully hairy (or hairless?) around here without you.
Faithfully,
C.
