A Case of the ‘Frances’

Frances is my second Mom. When I became friends with her daughter, Blush, all those years ago she was busy being the rock, caregiver, provider for a family that went through their fair share of trials. Frances was married to Cotton, no not a code name, it was his nickname from childhood; he had the most beautiful white hair. I never knew him to be a well person that was before my time. I used to wonder what he was like before he was sick, because he was a happy man even when he was in pain, which was all the time in his case. Whenever I picture him in my mind’s eye he is always in a hospital bed or in his beloved recliner. He had a classic southern drawl and sweet soul, even when he felt his worst he still made sure you knew he was happy to see you. Cotton had cancer.  Unfortunately, the treatment did more damage to his body than the cancer itself.  He would spend the next 20 years in and out of hospitals from Charlotte to Raleigh to Charleston and several cities in between;  tour of hospitals so to speak.  Each and every time Cotton would visit a hospital he would touch the lives of the many doctors and nurses who met him.  He had a way of asking for something and apologizing at the same time for bothering you. You couldn’t help but fall in love with him.

In August of 2005 Cotton finally lost his battle, it was time. I’m sure this is not absolutely true but how I remember it, or choose to remember it all. The last time I saw Cotton was at the Veterans hospital here in Charleston; just one of many hospitals where I spent time with him. He was there alone this time, Frances just couldn’t be with him all of time; after so many years you learn to do it alone. I took a day and snuck some of his favorite contra ban snacks and spent a few hours talking, reminiscing, and laughing. He was in pain but he never showed it and I never would have known except for the weariness that crept across his face as our time together came to an end.

During their nearly 40 year marriage Frances stood by Cotton’s side and cared for him, loved him and made unbelievable sacrifices during a time in her life when most are living a carefree life full of joy. Somehow though they found joy in what they DID have together.  After Cotton passed away Frances had to learn to live again. I can not describe how much of her life was consumed with caring for Cotton, to have him gone and learn what to do with all of her free time must have been more difficult than anyone can imagine. But she was always a happy woman with a huge laugh that engulfs a room and makes everyone laugh too. It wasn’t going to be long until someone came along and breathed new life into her…His name is Ken.

It wasn’t more than six months after Cotton died that Ken came into her life, an old acquaintance that had recently lost his wife of many years as well. It was a whirlwind romance, which had her completely, giddy. After so many years enduring the trials of a marriage that tested her endurance the taste of new love made it that much sweeter. I’ll never forget Blush putting Frances on the phone with me; her bubbling-over with excitement and details I was not expecting. Frances is a God-fearing woman and Sunday school teacher; I’m talking a prim and proper southern woman. So in my best Ouiser from Steel Magnolias voice “a dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste”. The things she was telling me! Lord have mercy… It had been a looooonnnng time since she had enjoyed the touch of a man. The kind of intimacy that makes a women quiver. Ohhhh she was a quiverin. I felt nothing but pure happiness, heart-overflowing joy for her, she deserved it and all that new love can bring.

That is how I’m feeling today. Giddy, happy, peaceful, balanced and hell yeah I’m a quiverin too. There is absolutely zero doubt that I have found my Babe. I haven’t been so sure about anything in a long time. Doubt has left my body and mind and all I can feel is gratitude for every moment of pain, every tear I cried and every douche bag I’ve dated which lead me to the man who I knew immediately, he is the one. Crazy I know! I can’t believe I’m saying it but when you know, you know.

So have a case of the ‘Frances’…over sharing, overjoyed, over the moon.

Love,

g

Slap & Tickle

Who doesn’t like a little slap and tickle sometimes? I know I do… just saying. I mean some of the best sex is when it’s a little rough, but always with love behind the action. So when does it go over the line?

The line is when it is done in anger and violence. It’s never all right to hit someone in anger, either for a man or women, it does happen both ways. There is something seriously wrong in a relationship when any form of violence occurs. Even the vulgar, insulting comments, verbal abuse should never happen either, it’s the same thing. If you think your abusive comments are acceptable because there was no physical force behind it, you’re delusional. Yet everyday both men and women for some reason try to hold onto people even though their actions and words prove their incompatibility. It’s because it always comes with the tickle right behind it, the sorrowful apology with the “you know I’m not really like that”, “I love you, you know I do”, “I’ll never do it again, I promise”. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. Shame on me!

I have a new friend who’s come into my life recently. She’s gorgeous, feisty, independent, and self-assured; let’s just call her Saffron. What a silly name but it suits her, the delicate thread plucked from the center of the beautiful purple bloom of the crocus flower. When used properly and treated with respect and grace can enhance a meal. (LMAO, she’s dying laughing while reading this. I’m also so hungry right now, I’m obviously just thinking about food but she’s stuck with it now).

Anyway, she was telling me about an incident she recently had with a guy. Saffron was defending his girlfriend; he was making insulting comments about her. When Saffron spoke up he turned it on her, he started insulting her looks, job, family status, saying she was old and had to travel halfway around the world just for a boyfriend. Bizarre, horrible stuff, right. Saffron handled him though, wasting a perfectly good martini by throwing it in his face and pointing out that her boyfriend is halfway around the world because he’s defending our country. She’s a badass! My idol.

However, he’s not the only man I’ve heard of being this way recently. When I was seeing HD, we were out watching a football game and one of his friends stopped by our table to talk. He made a comment about a woman he was seeing, something like “Yeah, just wine em, dine em, use them up and three weeks you’re outta there” My teenage son was sitting there and he looked at me in disgust.

So is that the new deal? Misogynistic assholes who think its ok to be degrading? Ok to slap you when they don’t like what you say or insult your looks, age, whatever they can pick apart. It may seem like that is whats out there these days BUT I know better. Men behave that way toward the women they are dating because they’re insecure in themselves. That’s why that asshole attacked Saffron. He tried to lower her self-esteem. However, he couldn’t, strong women don’t allow themselves to be abused. There are strong secure men out there, we just have to be strong, secure, happy women first.

The truth that I must face for myself is the men I’ve allowed to be in my life since Zed died have not been good to me because I’m not making good choices. I’m not ready to date, that’s why I’ve run from the good guys and held onto the ones that haven’t been good to me. I feel a little lost without my husband and don’t feel good about myself. Nevertheless, I’m getting there because I’m not accepting the bad anymore and have moved on.

Real love is sweet, kind, peaceful and giving. I know it’s out there, I do believe in love. I’ve taken enough psychology classes and I’m smart enough to know what I’m doing wrong. Maybe some more time alone will get me completely there.

I’m almost ready for the Slap & Tickle…but it’ll be the fun kind, you know when it makes you laugh, not cry.

Love,

g

Living in Brazil

All right, I’ve been a little serious with my writing lately and maybe a little depressing.  Not to worry, my life is wonderful and I’m happy for who and what I have today.  Today’s post is just a little something, to make us all laugh…I hope.

I have lived just north of Brazil for 20 plus years.  Brazil is really the only place to live anymore, and if you are still living in the forest, MOVE!  I do not care how old you are, yes Mom this includes you.  It’s gross, even for men.  Be free my friends, be free!  Besides, if you want anyone to go downtown with you, for you, to you, you better be living in Brazil.

Of course, I’m not talking about the country; I’m talking about the technique.  I have been an avid shaver for decades, a few times a week I shave up the cookie.  (This is a term I learned in pole dancing class, I will explain in another post)  You gotta get real close, this requires doing acrobatic tricks in the shower to get to those hard to reach places.  Yeah, yeah you’re going to get razor burn the first couple of times but eventually that goes away.  I don’t even think about it anymore.  NEVER UP!  ALWAYS DOWN!  Come on people, common sense.

Last summer I was taking a couple of anatomy classes and during lab, we would cut up with the instructor and some of the other girls in class.  One day my lab partner came in a little late.  She sat down and said, “Man, I’m feeling good today!”  Really?  What’s up?  “Girl I just got a Brazilian Wax and that shit is awesome.”  The professor piped in and said “Did you go to Claudia?  I’ve been going to her for years.”  She sure did!  As they told their stories, I was totally intrigued.  I had to give it a go.

I’m giving a huge shout out to Brazilian Wax by Claudia right here in Charleston.  She has several locations and they are all convenient.  Great staff and the price is right!  For $35 bucks, you can go to Brazil for weeks.  NEVER GO MORE THAN FIVE WEEKS, TRUST ME!  I went six weeks one time and I cried.  Really, I cried.  However, I still went back because the benefits are so much better than the pain.

Being an avid shaver and letting the bush grow in before your first wax was difficult to say the least.  Before you can go to Brazil, you’ve got to wait about a week and half to two weeks.  It felt so weird to have hair, yuck.  Arriving at the North Charleston location, this isn’t in the best area, I was a little skeptical but you only live once.  I walked in and it was very attractive, they had recently remodeled the inside.  I was escorted to the waxing room and told you can just lift your dress and take off your panties, lay down on the table and use this to cover up (she should have said, cover IT.)  …it was a washcloth.  Really?  Cover up?

When she came back in, the washcloth was gone in 2.2 seconds.  “Can you spread your legs and make a butterfly, feet apart” Uh…sure?  She then placed a little fan between my legs blowing a gentle breeze on my cookie, felt amazing but all I was thinking was why the hell is there a fan?  I soon found out.  It was a little uncomfortable to be lying there with my vajayjay just hanging out.  She started inspecting my hair growth kind of close; like the zoo monkeys.  “Ok,” she said, “we can do it, you have enough growth.”  Thank God, because at this point I’m not sure I would have gone back.  She went straight to work.

They use a soft wax that doesn’t require any cotton strips to rip it off, it just dries, and then they rip, hence the fan.  So she starts to apply this green wax to my hoo hoo.  Damn that shit is hot!  I was beginning to completely understand the fan now.  They are not afraid to touch your stuff either.  She waited a few moments and she looked at me and said “ready?”  Ok, HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!  I look down and see itty-bitty spots of blood…seriously blood!  Not a lot and not all over, apparently I had a few deep “hairs” this proceeded for about 30 minutes with some tweezing etc.  I felt like a buttered english muffin because she got all the nooks and crannies.  She finally said, “Ok all done, roll over” Huh?  “Roll over” uh, ok?  I roll over, fan still between my legs, bare ass showing.  She said, “Ok need your help now” Uh huh?  “What do you need me to do?”  “Spread your legs, hold your cheeks, and spread ‘em!”  Alrighty then.  When the hot wax hits that most delicate place, it’s a little warm and a very odd feeling.  Forget that there is a woman staring at your bunghole.  I said, “Wow, doesn’t even bother you does it?”  “No I’ve seen thousands, it’s just a job.”  Uh huh, ok, rip, rip… surprisingly that part didn’t hurt, weird right?  “All done, you can flip back over.”  She hands me the washcloth to cover up in case I’m feeling a little modest at this point.  What do I need that for, is there anything you haven’t seen?

This is what I will say; it feels pretty freaking amazing afterward, totally worth the pain and humiliation.  Once I starting going regularly, I no longer cared about some woman touching my cookie and removing the hair from my arsehole. The more you go the less it hurts too.  During the winter, I did go back to shaving but I’ve made my appointment to get my summer smooth back.

Try it you’ll like it…so will he or she.

Love,

g