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Humor June 2015

Agelessly Yours

Making It Out of the Driveway?

By Karen White-Walker

The two mysteries were solved — why her marriage was working, and where all her money went. I'll give you a clue; they're bigger than a breadbox. Give up? Victoria’s Secret. My friend, who is afraid to reveal her Adam's apple in public, had enough lingerie to supply a bordello.

You can never tell by a person's outer appearance what they're really like, huh? I mean, I have this older friend who is athletic, earthy and, because she has decent features and a bouncy bob, she never wears make-up to camouflage wrinkles, or colors her gray hair. Oh, the money she must save. I wonder what does she do with it all? She dresses very conservatively, wears only sports bras, and I've never once seen her in a dress, just like I've never seen Hilary Clinton in one.

Well, I recall one summer when I was packing for my every five-year Cape Cod vacation with my husband, when this friend invites herself right into my bedroom while I'm packing. Close friends are like that, ya know, they just barge their way in, because they're always around and not off on their own romantic excursion with their own husbands. Yet this friend seems to have a very solid marriage, no make-up, no underwire bras, or quick get-a-ways for two. I don't get it. I wondered what her secret was and on this very day, I was going to ask. Ask her? Heck, I saw first-hand for myself, and let me tell you, it was a shocker!

She snuggled up in my bedroom chair and might have even dozed off if she hadn't leaped out of her seat like she was being electrocuted, when she saw me packing my unmentionables. She gasped with disgust and disdain, like my nightclothes were an abomination to all things soft and silky.

It's August and you're packing floor-length, turtleneck, flannel nightgowns?"

"A man my husband's age can only handle so much seduction," I winked.

"And how much heat can you handle? August is usually 90 degrees, ya know."

"These antiques are ripped at the seams, have good ventilation, and I've washed them so much they're as thin as tissue paper," I showed her.

She held one up and tried to look through it. "Yep, a bank vault door should be so thick —  follow me!"

"Follow me?" Who'd she think she was, the Dalai Lama calling to his followers?

Fifteen minutes later I was standing in her bedroom and when she opened her dresser drawer, it was like an epiphany. The two mysteries were solved — why her marriage was working, and where all her money went. I'll give you a clue; they're bigger than a breadbox. Give up? Victoria’s Secret. My friend, who is afraid to reveal her Adam's apple in public, had enough lingerie to supply a bordello. She held up sheer teddies with snaps, skimpy tops and bottoms, and when she saw the shock and embarrassment on my face, she pulled out one little rather modest number from VS, an ice-blue satin top that came down to the belly button and French cut bottoms that ballooned out like two huge bubbles.

"After what you've been wearing to bed, put this baby on and your husband will think he's with a new woman," she promised.

I wanted to save the “surprise” for that first night on the Cape. I should have known that Old Eagle-eye would have immediately spotted the foreign object in our suitcase before I even had a chance to parade around in it.

"Where the Sam hell did THAT come from?!" he demanded.

"My secret lender said if you had gotten even a glimpse of me in these beauties with the ballooned bottoms before we left, we wouldn't have gotten out of the driveway, you would have been so turned on," I blushed.

"One look at you in THOSE, and I would have wished I had never had both cataracts removed!"

My friend's marriage may be solid, hurray for her; boo hoo to my teetering marriage and me.

 

Meet Karen