this is going to be a PG rated post.
i’ll try to keep it as clean as possible.
once upon a time
a whole lifetime ago now . . .
in 1963 i was a little teenager wannabe sex goddess.
it was the age of drugs sex and rock and roll.
but NOT for me.
i had been raised like a nun in a convent thanks to a very strict
and loving but disciplinarian father who had my total respect.
my dad jim reed at the age of 18 . . .
long before i knew him . . . but already stern apparently!
and below . . .
the age he was when ruling the roost.
adored right up until his sudden fatal heart attack not long after
this picture below at the age of 45.
i was 17. the marine 14.
but jim reed’s sense of authority was still intact.
even without him.
that is . . .
until i met my bob.
some peanut readers have already read about jim reed.
if you never have
if you want to know why he made such an impact in our lives
just click on past posts A to Z in the bar above and
read his story sometime when you have nothing else to do.
‘ the good ones . . . jim reed ‘
he was bigger than life.
i doubt seriously he’d have let me marry a man
ten years older than me . . . at my tender age.
actually I KNOW he wouldn’t have.
much less allow me to LIVE WITH that man for almost a year
from the time we met!!!
if he’d been alive still . . .
it would have absolutely been unheard of.
but i fell so hard. and it was real. and it was love at first sight.
which i had never believed in. but since then i do.
you simply just KNOW. and i did. and i was right.
people throw the words ‘ soul mate ‘ around rather lightly.
but they’re out there. and i found mine.
we met in september of 1963 and married in december of 1964.
and well . . . .
that’s all just what i did.
and it was one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.
SO . . . on with the story.
i know i promised a post about sex.
NOT mushy love stuff!
you can see with that kind of upbringing . . .
i knew next to NOTHING about life in the fast lane.
i had been allowed to date yes.
and i did have lots of fun. yes. but never in ‘ that ‘ way.
my life had been filled with ballet classes
and roller skating dates in the summer
ice skating dates in the winter
hayrides (YES! really)
school plays and rehearsals
simple dances at the ‘ youth center ‘
it would all bore the socks off any kid today.
but i was quite happy.
i still got embarrassed when they started showing commercials
for necessary feminine products that david niven called
” mouse beds ” in his witty autobiography . . .
‘ bring on the empty horses ‘
what pray tell does all this have to do with the picture above
SARAN WRAP ???
well. i’ll tell you.
by a stroke of universal luck i was able to meet and marry
my ‘ thunderboldt ‘ . . . my for real soul mate.
he was 28 years old. and i was 18.
a very YOUNG 18.
it was after all in the days when there wasn’t a miley cyrus
nor a kim kardashian prototype to teach you how to be
NOR were there all the thousands out there now in every media . . .
strutting their stuff for one and all to see and emulate for
whatever ‘lucky’ male that happened to be in their scopes.
i was on my own.
i was the all american girl.
not an ounce of mystery about me.
i weighed in at 105 . . . still the dancer’s body that proved years
of the discipline of ballet.
but sexy? NO.
i moved like a dancer. not a femme fatale.
how i wanted to be a femme fatale for my
older movie star handsome EXPERIENCED new husband.
where is the PG part you’re asking???
hold your horses old bean!
i’m getting there!
book worm that i’ve always been . . .
i went to the book store.
i needed some instruction.
i didn’t have any girl friends to ask about this stuff.
i hadn’t lived here all that long.
and my mother . . . now widowed . . . was already back in new york.
so . . . i turned to what i could find on the printed page.
much later there would be the infamous magazine called
COSMOPOLITAN for innocent brides like me.
but . . .
good grief! really?
now i think they all might know way TOO much!
and of course . . .
the mystery is
is left to the imagination now!!!
i was probably better off with my books from the bookstore.
my go to was the kama sutra. and a paper back called
‘ the happy hooker ‘
and another one that i can’t remember the name of right now.
great scot and cat house thursday old bean !!!
i learned a crash course in one afternoon.
i’m a quick study when i’m interested.
i was fascinated!
to put some of it to the test.
mind you i hadn’t ever had any complaints from the one who
would be the complainer if he had a complaint.
but then he had been my teacher.
so he was hardly apt to criticize his own handiwork.
but then . . .
i had always heard you need to keep your
” spicy “
the ‘unexpected’ was always a winner apparently.
i wasn’t the best cook in the west.
so i figured i’d better step up my game in other areas
if you know what i mean.
this one particular afternoon . . .
i decided to try out one of the things i’d read in one of the books.
did i have the necessary equipment?
no. i didn’t have any whipped cream in the fridge.
and he had taken our only car to his office.
i DID however . . . have the necessary saran wrap.
apparently THIS is what i was suppose to look like . . .
though in the book it didn’t go into the wrapping detail.
there was no picture.
apparently one was simply supposed to innately KNOW how
to wrap one’s body in the slick sticky stuff.
i did my best.
i supposed i approximated her look. sort of.
minus the lumberjack shoes of course.
my dainty feet are my best feature.
i’m not about to cover them up in THOSE CLOMPERS!
i bet when she stands up she falls over.
back to my story.
do YOU find that garb sexy?
i’m afraid it’s lost on me too.
it was then. and it is now.
i also do not understand the appeal of leather as a sexy material.
and goodness knows . . . . it’s been touted as such for YEARS.
and pray tell . . .
WHERE were you supposed to spread the whipped cream
and HOW? before the saran wrap or after?
i forgot that part.
and i didn’t have it anyway . . . so . . .
i tell you . . . it was hard enough just getting that @#$%*!
plastic wrap off the little roller without it constantly
sticking to itself and getting it to STICK TO ME
much less to mess with any old whipped cream !!!
i was worn out.
a little bit sweaty.
my hair was tousled.
i already looked like i’d had a nice roll in the hay for pete’s sake.
there i was.
wrapped up like a fresh little french baguette.
where to be when he comes in.
meet him at the door? like I ALWAYS DO?
too ‘ in your face ‘ for my new femme fatale mystery persona.
better to let him come looking for me . . .
i’ll go lie on our bed.
shuffling off down the long hall to our bedroom . . .
i fell once.
tripped by the tight saran wrap down to my ankles.
i’d had to wrap my legs together.
there hadn’t been enough of it to do them
so i either shuffled or hopped my way to our bedroom.
and sort of plopped onto the bed and rolled over on my back.
as i lie there waiting for him to come home . . .
it dawned on me . . .
i had wrapped myself like a swaddled baby egyptian mummy.
too late for doubt now!
i hear his car in the drive!
the front door of our house opens.
that confident walk of his striding on the hardwood floor. . .
he strides . . . this man of mine.
even when just taking a few steps.
it’s about 5:45 pm.
that voice i love . . . and i’m no where to be found . . .
” hey good lookin! where’s my girl? “
i don’t answer.
gotta keep the mystery going . . . of this great seduction.
the house is quiet like an egyptian tomb.
dang! i should have put some exotic music on the stereo!
ah well . . . too late now.
besides . . .
i’m lying here wrapped up like a sexy cleopatra mummy . . .
maybe he’ll think the house being quiet as a tomb is somehow
here he comes down the long hall.
his steps seem so BOLD.
my heart is beating like a trip hammer.
and yet i’m holding my breath.
with my luck i’ll pass out and miss it all.
i’m starting to really sweat now.
this @#$%! saran wrap is like being slowly
braised like a pot roast in the OVEN!
i panic. did i use deodorant this morning?
OH. thank GOD. i did.
relax tammy. you always do.
i know but somehow all sane thoughts have left me today.
the only things not wrapped in saran wrap are
and part of my arms.
otherwise i’m trussed like a gifted turkey at christmas.
and just as naked.
naked except for the magical seductive saran wrap.
how this vision is sexy . . . only the lord himself knows.
and possibly any vinyl type oriented fetish prone weirdos.
he’s at the bedroom door now. and it’s always open.
so i’m the first thing he sees as he comes in.
i stare straight up at him with what i hope is my
sexy ‘ come hither ‘ look.
i think my face instead belies my extreme discomfort in the sticky stuff.
i’ve never been so hot in my life.
no pun intended.
my dark hair is damp and curling on my forehead.
i look like a hostage that someone fixed up to throw into
the trunk of his car and then decided against it.
my beloved handsome bob . . .
who was the literal heart throb of the town . . .
and one of the most sought after bachelors to acquire . . .
had chosen ME.
the all american girl who just wants to please him.
in split seconds his face had a little fight with itself.
I COULD SEE IT!
he wanted to laugh. i saw that in his eyes.
but he didn’t.
he thought it might hurt or humiliate me.
as if my present form of attire wasn’t humiliation enough.
i honestly cannot remember what was said next.
i think NOTHING.
that’s why i don’t remember it.
i remember in the silence of the tomb that was our house that day
he had lots of fun unwrapping his little egyptian mummy . . .
he knew well what he was doing.
and i soon learned . . .
he was the only teacher i’d ever need.
and you’ve seen him before i know.
but i had to put him here again . . .
i just never get tired of looking at him.
end of story.
parental discretion is advised.
it would have been so much fun to grow old with him!
but we’ll meet again someday.
we’ll meet again.
below . . . a picture taken in the time period of the famous seduction.
not too much OBVIOUS adoration going on there . . .
and . . .
maybe a bit of wisdom i read somewhere lately . . .
” when you forget what you have for what you’ve lost . . .
grieving’s an indulgence.”
til soon old bean.