Death by Spanx

The special day was fast approaching. Ms. Thang was a buzz getting herself ready for the big day. Perfect dress, shoes to match. Let’s not forget the jewelry to bling up the attire. Hair and nail appointment inked on the day runner.

Sitting with a friend, much talk about the many things that still needed her attention, a suggestion, “Hey, spanx would make your dress fit “perfectly”. Don’t get me wrong, it already looks really good, but that extra touch, well it would just be fiu-fiu!” AND, hey, who doesn’t want to look “photoshopped” (at least one day)?

Ms. Thang set out to find the “infamous spanx”. Having no clue, knowing nothing about this piece of garment that would put her outfit over the top. Asked at a few places, but still unable to find this perfect garment. Finally, she arrives where the gal behind the counter doesn’t look at her like, “are you from Mars, lady?” This nice gal shows her a few pieces(literally) and gives her some pointers. Ms. Thang heads into the dressing room with two pieces in hand.

Queue the “OMG, I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S NOT BUTTER” song…wait, different commercial…anywho…IT WASN’T PRETTY  =8-0

Ms. Thang was resolved to at least get one of these pieces of perfection past her thighs. So she tried the one that went over her head. Good move, don’t you think?

She pulled, yanked…breath…pull, yank…ouch…more pulling, more yanking…OMG, it’s stuck!!! Paralyzed by this “rubber band” around her. Out of breath! In a position of a football umpire announcing a goal (the images are scandalous).  Many thoughts went through her head. One was, “I’m going to be found naked, strangled by a piece of cloth, a vicious cloth at that!” My husband is going to get the call, “Mr. Thang, your wife was found dead. Killed by spanx!”

How she managed to “get away” is still a very dark mystery. The good news is that she lived to tell about it. By the way, the dress fit just fine without this precious garment, thank you very much.

And, so the “rolls” ran free! Yes, “photoshopped” is not the only way to fly 😉

Blissfully Lost

Las dos amigas out for a time of pampering. The plan was set, the guys would eat and watch the soccer game while the girls get a day of rest, relaxation and pampering. Kiss, kiss and off they went.

The taxi driver didn’t seem to be “in service”, but then again everything moves slowly in La Paz. I guess that’s why one gets away. He finally agreed to shuttle them to their destination. Girls talk and talk, and giggle ready for their pampering. The driver, on the other hand, seems lost. He asked, one too many times, “What does your phone say?” to which the reply was always, “we have no WiFi”. Finally, at their destination!

The “look” of said oasis promised much. As they walked in they were greeted with sour looks. So much for “walk ins welcomed”. Icily turned away, “no room in the in”. A ray of hope rose in the horizon as one of the clients showed the discouraged amigas another location, AND it happened to be “right around the corner” (hold that thought). Off they went, with their plan “still” in place…pampering!

Blocks, and blocks, and blocks they walked…umm, “are we there yet?” There it is! Yes! The sign on the door shattered their plans, once again, “we’ve moved to a new location…” Taking this as a “sign from above”, they decided to head back to meet back with the guys.

Lost, yup, they were so lost. Walking, walking…hey, so I guess they did get a massage – of their feet…haha!

A wonderful little boy showed them the way. Yes, they are finally at the malecon (walk way by the beach). From here they can find their way “home”.

~~Blissfully lost, not a care in the world. The company of a caring and loving friend made all the difference. The talk was deep and fun. There were tears and much laughter. Somehow, I wish we were still lost…blissfully lost!~~

Behind the Frown

Have you ever wondered what’s behind someone’s frown?

~The two guys in the sauna that seem “angry” at the world. One is going through an all out war with his two brothers after their mother passed away from an aggressive form of cancer that gave them no time to “prepare”. The older brother is now holding their mother’s ashes hostage and refuses to give any of them closure. The other guy in the sauna, is getting out all his emotions here so that he can be “there” for his wife as they bury her beloved father.

~The woman sitting pensive in the Jacuzzi, is trying to regroup; to get some “rest” so that she can go back home to continue caring for her 26 year old, special needs, son who just had emergency open heart surgery.

~The young guy stocking shelves at the local grocery story. His 32 year old wife died of alcohol poisoning after many attempts at getting sober, leaving him a young widow and their five kids motherless.

Most of the time I have a “mad-dog” face, or as the saying goes, “cara de pocos amigos” (a face of not many friends/not a friendly face). Behind my frown is someone trying to keep it together. Someone who is trying not to scream or cry or lash out. Someone who just wants to get the task at hand done. Someone trying to keep the little sanity that she has intact.

What’s behind “your frown”?

Smell

Our senses, amazing God given gifts. For example, take the sense of smell. Certain smells can transport us to a time of pure joy and bliss while others can bring us to places of pain and agony. Some smells can make your mouth salivate at the pure thought of taking a bite of that feast set before you, other times it can make you nauseated and gag at the very whiff, remember the Putrid Smell?

Two houses are etched in my mind. On my way to the bus stop, I’d stop to “pick up” a couple of friends. We were in Junior High (eek, ok that brought back tons of other memories. I sense another post…).  Debbie’s house was bright and had the “smell” of “home”. Warm and cozy, her Mom always preparing something hot for her to eat before heading to school. Always sending her on her way with a hug and a kiss.  Linda’s house was dark, she almost had to sneak out so as to not disturb the coldness. That house felt empty and void.

Certain flower fragrances transport me to the first funeral home I ever attended. Just one smell and I’m sitting in those horrible hard benches, with that open casket which held the shell of the body of my 26 year old brother. Every fiber in my being feels exactly what I felt at that moment.

The stench of alcohol assaults me with thoughts of that man taking my innocence; of that man who beat me to a pulp; of that time I almost didn’t survive.

Interesting how the senses work. Where do “smells” take you?