Now that you have the map, come and save me.Last night was girls night at neighbor Violette's house. Now "girls" may not be very accurate here. I was a good ten years younger than everyone else, and I'm at an age when some mornings I actually spend time checking for wrinkles under my eyes. The conversation, however, was decidedly female (and don't be going feminist on me on this one!).
Ever since those times in Mandaluyong that I spent with Maya and Tara, often over coffee, sometimes over wine, occasionally over harder stuff, talking about our jobs, our dreams, our loves, our writing, and, yes, about other people, I have learned to appreciate female-bonding sessions. This time, somewhere in southeast France, I don't think I bonded with anyone.
"Don't expect to be discussing art and literature," Pierre had said, sending me off, the anxious husband thinking that for her sanity his transplanted new wife has got to start finding girl friends to replace her old ones. Of course not. Just art and literature would have been a bore. Pierre, however, did not prepare me for this:
There we were, first with our aperitifs of white wine (that would be me and another dark-haired guest) and whiskey coke (the four tougher mommas), later attacking the raclette and green salad, talking about: where to get the right bra for big bosoms, how much the shrimps went for at the just-opened supermerket, stockings or tights for the winter, the place to shop in Montpellier, what exactly is a bag tag, and where to go for tequila and rhumba. The high point of the evening was Anick the postman entertaining us with her depilatory adventures. (Are you ready for this? I sure wasn't.) All flushed with the excitement of remembering, she recalled the pain of waxing her own crotch, of chickening out halfway through the torture, and so living for a few weeks with the dire consequence of having half her vaginal triangle hairy as usual and the other half smooth as a baby's butt. Nowadays, she just lets it all grow wild.
As Abi would say, Hindi ko kaya...
4 comments:
How very open naman these women.
Last week, me and a frisbee girlfriend were comparing dead toenails (an occupational hazard when playing in tournaments, due to non-stop running). And they're really dead ha. As in, goth-black. Hihihi.
colon cleansing refuse, anyone? hindi ko kaya ang usapin ati! ano naman ang chinika mo?
say ko, ako i use a depilatory cream... when in rome daw kasi, you know...
Hahaha! Oversharing was the order of the day, IS IT (as they say here in Singapore)? I had coffee with some new friends the other day, and they had a friend with them who quickly lapsed into talking about how "small" her new boy was just 30 minutes after I met her for the first time. Luckily there were no salt and pepper shakers on the table...
Post a Comment