You can find earlier excerpts of The Reunion here
It was half past 12 before Jen showed up, looking gorgeous and voluptuous and perfectly made up, waving to me with her French manicured hand, wearing some most-likely couture outfit. She’s always been a little on the extra-curvy side, but she has a wonderful sense of fashion and has the money to choose clothing that looks as though it was made just for her. Today it’s a beautifully tailored silky looking wrap dress, skimming her curves and draping around her figure without clinging, perfect for her job as a sales rep for a big pharmaceutical company. And her open toed booties look adorable and probably cost as much as my grocery budget for the week!
Okay, yes, maybe I’m a little jealous. But by the time I got the kids and hubby out the door I barely had the time or energy to shower and blow dry my hair and find nice black slacks and a sweater to wear. A quick swipe of mascara and lip gloss and I was out the door. I was just early enough to snag a parking spot in front of Le Bistro. It’s a cute little ladies lunch kind of place not too far from her work, with a great roasted beet and goat cheese salad and cozy booths where we could talk without interruption.
I just can’t believe that Jen is really planning to entice a guy she doesn’t even know to just sleep with her. I mean, I know I’m old-fashioned, but, at 38, that smacks of desperation to me. And after 17 years of marriage, I can’t see myself being with anyone else. Of course, Jen has been divorced for a while now and yes, I get that women have needs. I just think she should be sensible. And careful.
We do the best girlfriend hug thing and she looks at me closely and says, “God, Beth, are you pregnant? You have that dreamy look in your eyes.” I practically blush but assure her that no, it’s just all the great extra-curricular activity I’ve had going on. I’m pretty sure I’m not pregnant, anyway…
“Well, see,” Jen says, “that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you. I miss all those wonderful sextivities in my life lately. I haven’t met anybody that I’m the least bit interested in. So that’s why I’ve decided I’m gonna go home for my class reunion and just be open to seeing what happens. I wish I could meet somebody wonderful and fall in love, but I’m not 20 anymore. And yeah, a little excitement in my life would be nice.”
“But, Jen, a stranger? Do you really think that’s smart? Or safe?”
“Aww, c’mon, Beth, I’m talking about maybe hooking up with somebody I went to high school with, not some random stranger I bump into on the street,” she says.
“That’s exactly the kind of thing I’m talking about, ” I frown. “People our age don’t hook up. We date. We get to know each other before tumbling into bed.”
“Honey,” she says, smiling a little sadly at me, “single people any age hook up nowadays. It’s not like they’re coming over to meet my daddy before we go out! And I’m divorced. I’m pretty sure the guys will figure out that I’ve had sex before.”
“Well, of course, you’re a grown-up, you can lead whatever kind of life you want,” I say more frostily than I intended. “I’m sorry, that sounded really bitchy. You know I love you!”
“I know you do, Beth. And I love you, too! My life is fine, just a little boring lately. And work is not as satisfying as it used to be. There have been so many changes at my company lately that I’m not sure if my job is even safe anymore. And if I don’t have my job, what’s left? But I am a grown-up, one who’s tired of just seeing BOB all the time. So trust me to be responsible, okay?”
“And who is Bob and why haven’t we met him?” I’m frankly a little offended since I share almost everything about my life with Jen. She laughs back at me. “Oh, Beth, not who, what — BOB is short for battery operated boyfriend!”
I know I’m looking confused, because she leans in and says in a conspiratorial whisper, trying hard to hide a smile, “You know, my vibrator!”
Does anyone know where I could buy these? For emergencies, of course 😉
I saw my plastic surgeon earlier this week and scheduled what will hopefully be the final step in my breast cancer reconstruction surgeries. He agreed that he would do as little as possible to minimize the chance of any bleeding/clotting complications.
The normal procedure would be to make an incision under the breast, remove the saline filled expander and replace it with a silicone implant. Not so much chance of bleeding with this.
Then he would perform a “lift” on the unaffected breast to make it perkier so that it better matched the side with the implant. (Not a lot of natural perkiness going on if you know what I mean!) Some risk of bleeding, but I said if he decided it was necessary to keep me from tipping to one side to just go ahead. He didn’t even crack a smile…
The last step would be to liposuction fat from the abdominal area (I know, how could that be a bad thing, right?) and insert said fat into both breasts to create a more natural, rounded appearance. Still no bounce, but softer. But I told him I just can’t do this. Disappointing, but it just seems too risky with the bleeding to take the chance. I think he was relieved I didn’t want to try 🙂
So I’m scheduled for surgery on March 10. I’ll almost certainly have to stop the Coumadin five days before, do the injections in my stomach twice a a day up till the day of surgery, then the hematologist and surgeon will decide how soon to resume the shots and Coumadin afterwards. It’s a crapshoot with me because of the Factor V Leiden clotting disorder I have but hopefully there won’t be any complications this time. I really want to be finished already!
Apparently chemo affects your hair, nails and skin for the longest amount of time. My nails are pretty good, just tiny black marks on some. My skin has been drier and I’m using moisturizer and body lotion every day. Most of my bottom eyelashes have fallen out now. My top lashes are mostly still there as are my eyebrows. Thank goodness for make up.
My hair on my head is finally growing back. Right now it’s this soft, down-like fuzz that’s pure white. From what I’ve read, it may stay like that or get darker or curlier. The doctors really don’t seem to have any idea why this happens. Waiting for it to grow back has been about as exciting as watching paint dry. I still am startled when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror — like a big-eyed alien with a glowing white halo! I’ll show you a picture soon, promise…
So, there, more than you ever wanted to know about me, right?
I posted a version of this last year on a different blog. I’ve toned it down a little for here, but it’s still going to be sexy. So, if that’s a problem for you, just cover your eyes while you read. 😉 Hopefully the start of another short story/longer story, whatever it turns out to be, I guess…
“Jen called me earlier this morning,” I say to my sweet, sexy hubby. “I told her about my anniversary surprise for you at the hotel and she’s thinking of doing something similar, only with a perfect stranger. She says she might even pose as a hooker. I shouldn’t have told her. I’ve created a monster.” Hubby, who happens to be a police detective, is just pouring coffee, pajama pants riding low on his hips and no shirt. I have an almost overwhelming desire to lick his back, right between his shoulder blades. But just as I’m about to pounce, he turns to me, coffee in hand and I’ve lost my chance unless I want hot coffee accidentally splashed on my boobies. And I don’t, I really don’t…
“Baby, please don’t tell me stuff like that,” he winces. “Now I’ll have to think about arresting your best friend for solicitation or something.” I see the humor in those slate blue eyes but something deep down tells me he’s not really kidding. Mr. True Blue would do it if he had to, and that’s why I really, really love him. Or maybe it’s his perfectly gorgeous butt and that chest and the way he wraps himself around me before, during and after we make love. Or how when it’s just sex cause we’re tired or one of us is annoyed about something (okay, maybe it’s me) and he slowly opens my nightgown and pays homage to my breasts, first circling gently with his finger and then teasingly pinching and pulling and sucking until I’m begging and then just pushes into me and, ah, it’s like yes, that’s what we need to get back to normal. Mmmm —
But I digress. My best friend, Jen, who got divorced a few years ago, has decided when she goes home for her 20th high school reunion she’ll pick up a guy she barely knows and spend the night with him. Well, okay, yes, maybe we did that back when we were in college but now it seems, I don’t know, horribly scary, maybe?! There’s all these diseases out there, not to mention the fact that he just might be a psycho slasher/serial killer or even just a nasty businessman cheating on his wife. I mean, just because he doesn’t have a wedding ring on…
I decide to call Jen back and ask her to meet me for lunch today. The kiddos are in school and we can spend her lunch hour talking about why it’s not a good idea for her to do something crazy like this. I call her and we agree to meet at this new little French bistro-type place that opened up recently by her office. I know we’re going to order salads anyway, so no sense going somewhere like Cheesecake Factory and being tempted, right?
JP is my 4-year-old grandson. He and his mom and dad and their English bulldog lived with us while their new house was being built. One of the best things about having them here was spending time talking with him. It makes me hopeful for the next generation. He is so wise and so much fun! You can find all my Me and JP stories here.
Sometime around 12:30 p.m. Friday night. JP is having a sleepover at our house and is in the guest room, where he usually sleeps. My son, David, whose room is next to the guest room, comes to our room and says JP is calling me…
JP: Nana, didn’t you hear me calling you?
Me: Baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t.
JP: I threw up, Nana, I’m sorry… (Poor baby, he sure did! On the bed, the pillows, himself – thank goodness for waterproof mattress pads and washable foam pillows. Miraculously, his stuffed foxes that he sleeps with every night did not take a hit…)
Me: Oh, honey, don’t worry, it’s okay. Nobody means to throw up, you couldn’t help it. Come here by me.
JP: No, Nana, don’t hug me. You’ll get your nightgown full of throw up.
Me: Ah, okay, well, can you take your pajamas off?
JP: NO, I don’t want to touch them!
Me: Honey, I’ll help you. How does your tummy feel now?
JP: It feels lots better, Nana. Oh, wait, I think I might have to throw up more. (And he does…)
JP: What is that stuff?
Me: I’d say it’s your dinner from last night. Why don’t you lay down in Papa’s computer room while I change the sheets on the bed?
JP: Nana, how am I going to fall asleep if I have to keep throwing up??
(After the sheets are changed, I lay down with him and he does fall asleep by about 2 a.m. Unfortunately, he sleeps like a starfish, so I go back to my room at 2:30 so we can both get some rest…)
This morning, about 7:30 a.m.
Me: How do you feel this morning? Maybe I should text Mommy and Daddy…
JP: I feel good. You can text them later, after we have McDonald’s for breakfast.
Me: Oh, baby, I don’t think so. Maybe some toast?
JP: I don’t feel hungry right now. Papa made me some tea with honey.
Me: Okay, just take a few spoonfuls and see how it goes.
JP: I think I’m going to throw up again. (And he does…)
Me: I think I’ll just text Mommy and Daddy now.
JP: Can we have McDonald’s next time when I don’t throw up?
Me: That sounds perfect!
I’m doing laundry and having a tough time getting the smell out of some things like his jammies. Someone suggested a mix of 2 cups hydrogen peroxide, 2 t. baking soda and a few drops dish detergent to soak clothing in or use on carpet. Seems to be working. Coincidentally, same mixture we used on Inga, our Norwegian Elkhound, when she got sprayed by a skunk so I have lots of peroxide on hand! What an exciting life I lead…