Victoria's Secret

2010 Victoria's Secret

So, today I invite my husband to share the precious space where I walk.  A four mile hike along a dike where a family of coyotes, turtles, ducks, caterpillars, slugs, blue herons, frogs, carp, nutrias and an occasional owl or two grace the environment.

Why didn't I recognize the signs from a nurse who had just come off a 5 night, 60 hour run of work, who walked in the door this a.m.  as I was enjoying my first cup of freshly ground coffee, grooving in the fen shui of my home when suddenly and quite rudely am disrupted by HIM shouting in his bathroom that his toilet had overflowed onto the floor.  Yikes, his Ch'i materializes into a flash of tightey whiteys across the living room and as I struggle to ignore this particular reality enfolding in front of me, it dawns on me that I heard the linen closet door close.   As calmly as I can but without a whole lot of success, I literally shrill, "DID YOU JUST TAKE OUR BATH TOWELS OUT TO WIPE THE FLOOR?  A very strong, holding his ground, convinced and determined tone of voice answered back with just a hint of threat, "Yes, I did".  Ok girl, shift down to a normal voice and mirroring his tone of voice, I reply, "do not use our towels to wipe up your floor".  Whoops, he escalates, "WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO USE?"   In a very quiet, somewhat condescending voice ,  "the old ones in the rag bag".  End of conversation.  After he showered, he heads to bed, gives me a kiss and says he is sorry for "yelling" at me.  Cool, apology accepted.

Then he wakes up.

So both of us have been working, me days, him nights and we haven't see each other in a week, so I stupidly, yes stupidly, ask if he notices that I have lost a total of 5 lbs.  He stands there like a deer in the headlights and I am thinking, "oh shit", thinking of course he will say the "right" thing like a simple "yes".  OH NO.....not......negative.  He says, "yep, your butt looks smaller".  Whaaaaaaaaaat?  "What is that supposed to mean?  Do you think I have a big ass?  I thought that was the smallest part of my body."  So I am trying to look behind myself, on either side of me, and in the most evil tone of voice I can muster, I say, "I meant my face or something".  He answers with an itty bitty, "oh".

Ok, we won't let that ruin the day, I am thinking.  Let's go for a walk, it's 70 degrees, the sun is out, not a cloud in the sky.

We get to the dike and to think it was only yesterday that I walked it alone with my pink Orange County Chopper baseball hat and a Gortex rain coat.    It  rained softly, a gentle shower but it was ok.  The air was full of wonderful fresh scents and I was deeply inhaling the smell of wet earth and appreciating how the rain cleans the air.  I don't need an Ipod hooked into my brain, distracting me from the sound of the wind, or the sight of  everything swaying; I don't want to miss a thing.  I get to go to my celestial chatroom to check in on all my R.I.P. buddies, listen to my inner voice, think about people I love, write poems on the  little tablet I carry or even sing.  I love watching clouds.  There were great big voluminous clouds everywhere in the sky and I remember what my friend Susanne told me before she died,  "find me in the clouds, in the trees" so I look.....hard.  I saw 2 people playing leap frog, a lion, a hippopotamus, a sleeping dog, a dog laying on its back, and uh, er, a couple procreating, (I kind of watched that one for awhile).   So basically it was a good walk.

I am known for not leaving well enough alone.  I did not earn my survival badges retreating to anywhere safe.  So we start on the trail and I say, "OK, be specific, exactly where on my butt do you think it's smaller".   He puts one finger on my hip bone near my waist.  I said, "that's not my butt" but he insists it is.  So he tries every which way to say he wasn''t talking about my butt, but this little area and he went into elaborate detail, an almost scientific analysis of this area of my butt.  I scream, "ENOUGH", what about my stomach and waist area and here it comes:

"Well, you must of lost weight there, your boobs look bigger".  I am glad I don't carry a gun.

Victoria's Secret, oh sling goddess of the down trodden, saddened, tired slopes of femininity that once stood at attention and saluted quite proudly anyone who cared to look.  Oh yes, the slings that are made with memory foam, that can contour, reshape, and give the god almighty "support" those tired old girls need to curl up and rest in.

I calmly explained that was not weight loss he was seeing, but Victoria not keeping a very good secret.

The whole time this conversation was going on, I am reciting all of this back to him as if I am writing the blog and he was laughing so hard by the end of the walk our Ch'i energy came back into balance and  peace and harmony was restored.