Under Dressed and Over Uglied
Is there anyone out there who doesn’t need Walmart from time to time? Well, with the possible exceptions of Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin, of course. It’s just so darn convenient to have everything under one roof. The other day I needed a random assortment of “stuff”, so instead of going to the sporting goods store to buy the puppies their tennis balls, the fabric store to get sewing needles, and the drugstore for toiletries, I opted instead for a quick stop at Walmart for all the above. That was when, in my new hyper-vigilant, always on the lookout for something funny mode, I noticed the strangest thing. Approximately 60% of all the women weighing, oh, let’s say more than 200 pounds, were really scantily dressed. I don’t know about you, but when I’m even 10 pounds overweight, the first thing I’m going to do is bury my lard under one of The Spousal Unit’s sweatshirts ASAP prior to leaving the house. I certainly don’t want to trot out a team of Clydesdales, activate the bugle squad, and shoot off fireworks to call attention to any recent dietary transgressions. The less seen the better. So what is it that makes so many of these plus size babes think it’s OK to wear a size 6 when you’re actually an 18? Wear a belly shirt when two skin inner tubes are flopping out over their waistbands? Don a completely diaphanous (that’s see-through for those of you for whom literacy is optional) shirt without benefit of a cami? They would get more coverage from a thick coating of Vaseline smeared over their torsos. Am I in a grumpy mood today? Not at all, simply curious, that’s all. Perhaps these folks possess a magic mirror that is not present at my house, a magic melting mirror? One in which Mama Cass is transformed into Reese Witherspoon? I’ll tell you what sisters, one of those puppies is on my Christmas list as of right now!
Was it not just the last blog where I spoke the words “perhaps there can be peace in our kingdom, at least temporarily”? I put a hex upon the house, apparently, because at her routine vet visit last week, the doctor discovered a huge mass on Pooter’s abdomen. There can be a best and worst case scenario in all this, the vet said, but for now we just have to wait a few weeks to see what happens. Now if that had been present on Booger, it would have been spotted immediately, but Pooter is so furry and thick, it wasn’t noticeable until the doctor pointed it out. Worry, worry, worry.
I’m keeping this short today because I have two longer blogs to post later this week. But since so many of you seem to be enjoying my NY story (I sure hope you are all around to buy “Texas Toast” if it finds a publisher!) I’ll carry on with a bit of that.
From 1974-1976 I would watch Boy’s continued decline, his fall from grace as the Golden Boy. He never rebounded from his firing from the lighting design firm and cast about aimlessly and listlessly for the next two years, picking up waiter gigs and occasional drafting jobs here and there. It became clear to all around Boy, and even sadder, to Boy himself, that NYC was not to be his apple for the plucking. If there was to be a resurrection in his future, it would have to be in a smaller pond. For better or worse, NYC had forced Boy to confront and admit his bisexuality, which he had previously denied vehemently. Part of him was reluctant to return to Texas, where open minds didn’t really prevail at that point in time. For my part, even with the very limited work I was finding, there was no way I would go back to Texas except to visit. So Boy and I lived at this impasse for those two years, friendly and companionable enough, but always slightly wary of one another. He because I might kick him out of my world at any moment, forcing his decision regarding his future on him sooner rather than later. I because I wasn’t quite ready to face modeling and Manhattan completely on my own just yet. So we lived as roommates might, he going his way in the night and me going straight into the arms of my Svengali, Alberto.
It was a rather dismal and grim two years, literally and figuratively. The city is a gloomy place with the canyons formed by all the high rises, where it feels like the sun cannot reach. After the warmth and brilliant sunshine of south Texas, it was an unpleasant shock and took some adjusting. The weather was cold and grey and even the snow quickly turned a nasty shade of ash. There weren’t any happy memories that I can recall from that period, just drudgery and pushing on, trying to connect with anyone who could jump start my career. I can definitely relate to grinding poverty and the lack of any joy to light up your days. No shopping, no going out to dinner, no vacations, no thank you! Where was Walmart back then when I could have been the toothpick amongst all those rotund olives?
Have a wonderful holiday readers.