Bachata makes me…
- Miss my hair
- Want to lose 15 pounds
- Consider moving to Venezuela… like… tomorrow
Bachata makes me…
Last night I heard the story of how my aunt Lina cut her hair.
It was 1981. She had had two children. She had lost all the weight and was as fit as could be. Had the look of shining health I imagine – even today she is the picture of a healthy life albeit with a cigarette. She walked into the salon one day and said cut it off! It was GORGEOUS she says. I was HOT!
She was telling me how she wore a pair of those sexy jeans that had a zipper at the bottom and a lacy top the day she met Mick Jagger. Her hair freshly cut. That was the first tour she went on. They became fast friends for life. She tells me that rock’n’roll keeps her young. But if you sleep with anyone they never invite you back. She’s glad she never crossed that line. Sometimes frigid is a good thing.
It’s a beautiful thing, a haircut. The best thing in the world to transition from one stage of life to the other.
Another thing she told me is that as a Scorpio I am a woman of power. The seat of our power is in the genitals… therefore scorpios make great prostitutes (and here I choked because I thought she was gonna say lovers!) but she discourages that direction. I am told that I will re-invent myself every few years (as I have been known to do to date). I have the nature of the phoenix – rising out of ashes as good as new with the power to do great things and soar above it all. She switched from astrology to numerology and made my head spin but there it was, the number 8. Near the number of God (didn’t know before that God had a number). But my allergy to numbers prevailed and the details left my brain as soon as it touched down.
At the end of it all I looked at her hair and I looked at mine and decided, there are worse things than being a woman alone. We could do worse!
OK. The Resolution is complete. So I can allow myself to think about this and actually enjoy putting it into words – one of my secret delights. Crankiness is over, I’m no longer pissed off and the day has started well. With an uplifting view. The Ladies who read this will know exactly what I’m talking about… oooo la la.
Now this is the kind of post a girl has to read and re-read to make sure it is couched in the language of the true artistic appreciation for beauty and to make sure she doesn’t sound like a lush. But there are no two ways to say it – there are few things on Planet Earth more beautiful than a nice WINGSPAN. The space between the tips of the feathers-fingers and the ripple of skeleton-and-muscle-mass well defined and artfully designed. Better than poetry for a discerning watcher.
The rest of the body might have room for improvement – teeth may be crooked, eyes close, legs short. But who cares when the wings look about likely to fly – or lift heavy things real high? A paunch might sit loosely around the waist, but isn’t important if all is right in the right place.
Of course we are taught to seek out one with a good head on his shoulders. But isn’t there something to be said for good shoulders?
Enjoy your day my ladies! I hope you spot a good WINGSPAN!
Size does matter. The heel must be no less than four inches long and fine pointed. She must feel her thighs tighten, her toes stretch, and her bottom go POP. Her back is that much straighter, her walk is that much more sassy, and her sexy underwear cannot compare to the power of The Stiletto.
“You put high heels on and you change.”
Known, for obvious reasons, as f***-me shoes, anything over four inches on your feet brings out the best in every leg. No matter how thin, how old, how young, or how voluptuous that leg may be. This is the piece of clothing that is for every shape and size. It simply screams WOMAN.
The only lingerie that is socially acceptable for public wear, it is the completion of every outfit. When a woman wakes up in the morning, does her hair, sprays perfume in the right places, slips into some lacy undergarments and shrugs herself into today’s silk or satin, this is the only thing that seals the deal. There is a feeling of completion when she slides pedicured toes and stands her smooth heel into the determined feminine arch of The Stiletto.
As every Single Woman knows (and I have told her) the lacy underwear isn’t about him. It’s about how it makes you feel. This does NOT apply to The Stiletto. The Stiletto is for the benefit of EVERYONE in a five-mile radius of her power sashay.
Stiletto Stories – As if you needed proof…
The list goes on and on… but you get it.
If you don’t have a pair of these in your closet, you have 24 hours to fix that grave error. GO!
It’s not about a man. It’s about her and how it makes her feel. But we don’t need to tell them do we?
There is nothing that boosts outer confidence like an underneath of vermilion lace complete with garter belt and knee highs. And lingerie goes everywhere. It can go under the most conservative business suit, librarian-dreary gray skirts and turtlenecks, or the uniform of the female police officer. It matches everything- sandals, boots, any handbag, glasses, up-dos, guns, motorbikes, desks, choir robes, dreadlocks. Every single woman – in fact every woman – should have a drawer designated for filmy creations that make her feel smart and sexy (SMEXY!).
A single woman knows that the only thing better than looking sexy is feeling sexy. It doesn’t matter who sees.
One morning after yoga class in the shower room a yogi stared into the mirror, curling iron in hand. Her face wasn’t front page material but no one noticed. As she released one ringlet at a time it was the lace that caught the attention of the ladies in line for the shower. Hot. Pink. Garter belt and black knee-highs. Later she was seen hailing a cab in a conservative gray suit with black leather pumps. An ordinary woman on her way to an ordinary job. But with an extra pep in her step. There was something about the way she raised her hand and something more to her tone when she gave the driver directions.
Every woman in that shower line went out that day and bought a pair of knee-highs. Writer included.
When To Wear Sexy Underwear
When do you wear yours?
Last night I met my match. Exactly what I needed. Had me leaning into the curves and squeezing tight with first fear and then curiosity and then excitement but always adrenaline. Sure… the day had been spent in work and stress and productivity and focus. But the night was spent in a rush.
After the first ride I came off shaking. Aftershocks. Was that really 90 miles per hour? Pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff. Long exhale. When I got back on it was with new understanding – a brand new appreciation. Total exhilaration. The rush of naked speed.
Today I have a new goal. A new resolution. A semi-financial goal to meet a carnal need. By next year this has to be mine. I have to own this rush. Remember this please – on the 5th of September 2011 I decided that on the 5th of September 2012 I MUST HAVE IT. ALL to myself. Available 24 hours a day to rock my little world…
Bushlings has finally lost her damn mind. It is official. No question about it. Her sense has left the building.
She can’t fit into her skinny jeans. Has to do the wiggle. But does that stop her from booking a two-piece show-all spare-no-secrets carnival costume for Trinidad Carnival 2012? Of COURSE not!
I should be terrified. I really should. I know. But no. I am EXCITED NUH-RASS (lol Caribbean to the core!).
In my inbox this morning I found an email from Trinidad. I was directed to the payment page. I went through the process. And BAM. It’s done. The craziest $250 I have ever spent in my life.