Playing Dress Up

This week's RemembeRed prompt: With Halloween approaching, many of us are revisiting fond memories of trick-or-treating, favorite candy, and parties. For Tuesday, reach back to a costume that made an impression. Was it yours? A friend’s? Maybe it was a costume you never got to wear. Show it to us with your words, draw us into the emotions it evoked at the time.  Word limit is 400.

 

One minute we were Sweaty, Lips, and Mouthy; the next, we were Queen of Hearts, Pink Pirate, and Red Riding Hood.  Bought just days earlier, the costumes were corny, not to mention a little slutty.   Compliments of last minute shopping for the Halloween.

"I can't believe I'm wearing this sh*t," Mouthy said as she tied the cherry-red cape around her neck.

Lips had just finished wriggling her legs into a pair of black tights.  “Whew,” she puffed.  She took one look at Mouthy and burst out laughing.

"What?" Mouthy demanded.

"What’s a Playboy sign doin’ on your cape?" Lips chuckled.

"What the f*ck?!?  Did you see this?!?" Mouthy pointed to the small white bunny emblem on her cape that we didn't notice before.

We looked like a couple of boffos.  Hands still shaking from mirth, I attempted to draw a perfect heart shape on my lips with a bright red lip liner.

"Dang, my armpits are sweating.  Where’s the deodorant?" Lips took off her velvet pirate coat.  It was bubblegum pink with gold trimmings and white lace on the collar and sleeves.  A criss-cross of gold ribbons decorated the front.

"Mouthy, your boobs are about to pop out of your corseted top. How do you manage to make every outfit look x-rated?" Lips chuckled.

"Shut up, Lips," Mouthy replied then looked at herself in the mirror.  "Sheeeeit, we look like skanks.  Sweaty, I'm SO blaming you for making us do this!"

We howled again.

"Come on, it's fun... Besides, I'm wearing this... um, milkmaid slash Queen of Hearts costume ain’t I?  You’re not the only ones who’re embarrassing yourselves," I giggled.

Two black arches now covered my natural eyebrows.  The same shade of deep sky blue as my dress rimmed my eyes.  I’ve drawn lines below my eyes, the same way circus clowns did theirs, to resemble eyelashes.  At the corner of my left eye were two black tears, shaped like upside-down hearts.

"How do I look?" Mouthy asked.

Her short dress, white covered with red lace, resembled a piece of lingerie more than a Halloween costume.  The white legging she wore toned it down a bit, but she still looked like Hugh Hefner's version of Red Riding Hood.

Lips grabbed the camera as Mouthy pretended to curtsy.  They took turns posing in front of the camera.

"Sweaty, you done yet? Get your butt over here!!" Mouthy yelled.

Adjusting my wig to fit more securely on my head, I paused to savor the moment.  I heard the clicking of the camera accompanied by flash lights.  Lips and Mouthy chortling like a couple of school kids high on sugar.  I was happy.

"Coming!" I answered.

WANTED: Some Sex

This post is based on this week's TRDC Write On Edge's Red Writing Hood prompt: 
Let's get all steamy up in here and write about sex.  But there's a twist.  You can't write about the act.  I don't want to read about any heaving bosoms or girded manhood (please tell me someone else giggled besides me).  Limit is 600 words. It can be fiction or non-fiction.

WANTED: Some Sex

Gosh, when was the last time I had sex? Honestly? Ages ago. I can’t believe I’m actually going ahead and writing this prompt. Because this is as good as it gets: I haven’t been getting any.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, or wondering why this girl isn’t gettin’ any, let me explain it in a nutshell: my husband says he doesn’t love me anymore, and we might or might not be getting a divorce. But, I’m not here to complain about that. I’ve dealt with that.

I just haven’t dealt with the lack of sex yet.

My besties Ms. Lips and Mrs. Mouthy would testify that I’m not [usually] a very sexual person.  In fact, they’d laugh and tell you, “You’re actually talking sex with Sweaty? Seriously?!?” I’d like to think it has something to do with the anti-depression meds that I’m taking, but mostly it’s probably just my tendency to be on the extreme side of things.  Somewhere in my mind, the fact that I am a ‘mommy’ had apparently short-circuited my libido fuse. For years following my daughter’s birth, sex was the last thing on my mind.

But to give me some credits, no, I wasn’t always like this. I used to buy racy—really racy--lingerie and wore them.  I’ve had frantic sex while my cousin was banging on the front door of my apartment.  I’ve had sex videotaped (uh huh. Let’s hope you won’t see it anytime soon on the internet.  That would NOT be cool).  I’ve had sex naked on a beach under the moonlight (oh yes I did).  I’ve had sex in front of mirrors too (kinky, but true).

Then, slowly those lingerie were replaced by boring, but oh so comfy, grandma panties and wire-less sports bras. Forget late-night fumblings underneath the blanket, I need my beauty sleep! Gone was the spontaneity, replaced by practicality:

• ugh, do I really want to take another shower?

• And re-apply my day/night face/eye/neck cream/serum?

• Honey, can you go brush your teeth first, and while you’re at it, wash ‘you-know-what’ junior a bit, and perhaps put on some cologne and/or that aftershave that I like?

• Oh but my head has found that perfect spot on the pillow already and if I were to move…

• Um, can you not touch my hair too much, I just had it styled and it’s such a pain to put it back together afterwards.

Okay, so where was I? Oh yeah, the lack of sex, when you’re [possibly] going through divorce.

Given my previous record when it comes to sex, you would’ve thought that I would have no problem whatsoever dealing with this little ‘inconvenience.’  But oh no, not I!   I didn’t mind not having sex when it was my choice, but the moment it became a no-choice, that’s when my body decided, hey, some a LOT of sex would be good.

No kidding, those reverse psychology bullsh*t apparently works on me. I want what I cannot have.  As always.  For the first time in years, I want to wear those racy lingerie again.   I want to feel breathless, my pulse quickens, my sense heightened.   I think of the pleasures that comes from lying entangled, limbs to limbs, skin to skin, just tasting the taste and inhaling the scents off each other’s skin.  I want to be desired, touched, filled, consumed.   I want it fast, slow, roughly, and gently.  Oh for f*ck sake, what I want to say is, JUST GIVE IT TO ME already!!!

So there.  That’s my take on sex.  Right now I’m so horny I could hump a tree.

-THE END-

Mouthy, Lips, and Sweaty's Karaoke-O-Rama

So Mouthy and Lips booked us a private room at our favorite karaoke place.  It was our favorite because it was by far the cleanest and most family-friendly karaoke place in town.  Which meant chance encounters of the bimbettes or dickheads kind was highly unlikely.  It also had the most updated song selections and featured a karaoke system that's easy enough for gadget illiterates like us to handle.

The private rooms also came with a rotating disco ball, a set of tambourines (perfect for ABBA songs, by the way), maracas, and a conga.  The bigger rooms even had their own set of drums. Total coolness!!!

Armed with three microphones--that's one each for Mouthy, Lips, and me--we were ready to sing our way through the Billboard chart.

We were so 2011!  We heart: Usher, Will.I.Am, Katy Perry, Lady Gaga, Glee Cast Volume 1, 2, 3, and 4, B.o.B featuring Hayley Williams, Bruno Mars, Britney Spears, Flo Rida, Eminem, and Rihanna. Who said we couldn't keep up with the tweens, eh?

Worth mentioning was our buddy for the night: an Absolut Vodka called Kurant.  Mixed with sweet ice tea and lots of ice, Kurant tasted quite fantastic.  Before long, Mouthy, Lips, and I were rappin' and struttin', and doing a lot of "Wassup, yo?"  We jumped around and took it another notch with songs by the likes of David Guetta, the Black Eyed Peas, and Akon...

Dootz, dootz, dootz...  I was doing all these moves and dance maneuvers unbeknownst to me under um, more sober circumstances.  I felt dang invincible.  I was on a roll, man!!!

By the third hour, Mouthy suddenly had some kind of tummy ache. All those singing and screaming were making her gassy.  Lips went mellow and started doing doleful ballads like "Crazy" by Aerosmith and "If You're Not the One" by Daniel Beddingfield.  What the fug, Lips?!?  And as for me, I was getting increasingly annoyed at my overactive bladder.  I guess all those Kurant + sweet iced tea I guzzled down earlier were starting to mess around with my bladder.

I guess you could take the girl out of the 80s but you can't take the 80s out of the girl.  By the end of the night we were singing songs by Peter Cetera (when he was still the long perma-haired lead singer of Chicago), Debbie Gibson, Tommy Page (please don't ask), Air Supply, and Guns' N Roses.  We were back to being teens, to the time when first loves and heartbreaks reigned.  Every verse was memorable, pregnant with nostalgic memories and remembrance.  Heck, I even shed some tears.  What a wuzz.

Tired but not really eager to go home, Mouthy, Lips, and I decided to grab late-night/early-morning supper before calling it a day.  We drove to a nearby 24 hours coffee-shop where we splurged on comfort food.  Just for that moment, we'd like to forget about diets and muffin-tops.  We chatted about nothings, giggled over juicy gossips, and laughed at unfunny jokes.

By the time we each got home, it was around 5 a.m.  I could hardly keep my eyes open.  As my head hit the pillow, I realized that deep down I still had this wound that needed to be patched up.  I know that it was still there, but at least it's a little bit more numb now.  I had fun, so I considered it a successful night.  Granted, I was also too exhausted to think about basically anything at that point.  Oh well, I'll deal with it one way or another...

Thanks, Mouthy and Lips.  You girls were the best.

P.S: Here are some songs to take you down the memory lane... Cross my heart hope to die, I promise I'm not gonna tell anyone, ok?

With Friends Like These...

Growing up as an only child, having close friends whom I can trust and share with is extremely important to me.  My mother was never the motherly type.  I don't doubt how much she loves me, but I find that whenever I talk to her, I always steered clear of mentioning anything that might worry her.  I want her to see me as strong and able--a survivor.

Oh, I have no problem sharing with my friends when it comes to these emotions: joy, love, surprise, anger, fear, even embarrassment (uh huh, you've read my other posts, right?).  I'm not a closed-up person when it comes to friendships.  What you see is what you get.   

When it comes to expressing or sharing sadness though, it's a totally different story.

Perhaps because I grew up being an only child?  Or because I was raised by the type of mother who was not big on expressing emotions?  Whatever it is, of all the things I suck at, if I must choose one, it would be my inability to share my own sad feelings with anyone other than myself. 

Instead of seeking others' company or advice, I would go into a hiding mode, where I would ponder over things quietly in my head, cry, and then somehow work myself into feeling normal again.  As you could probably predict, more often than not, whatever the issues were was never really resolved.

What about therapists?  Well, I've tried.  Unfortunately, not even a therapist can make me talk about sad things.  I would just babble on about other things, making jokes and laughing my ass off, all the while avoiding the reason why I came in the first place.  Before you know it, the session would have ended, the therapist would have this big grin from having laughed so much, and I would leave without mentioning anything that would indicate the sad mess that was in my head.

But today... today I am sad.  Predictably, my mind blanked out when I tried to write down how I feel.  Couldn't elaborate.

So what do I do at a time such as this?  I called up my buddies, Mrs. Mouthy and Ms. Lips.  I told them I needed a distraction.  I need to drown my sorrow with some alchy and loud music.  Anything that would beat the shit out of whatever it is that's in my head right now.  I need to force myself to feel "normal" again.  Bitchy, I can do.  Psycho, even better.  Pathetic, helpless chick hag?  SO not me.

As always, Mrs. Mouthy and Ms. Lips didn't disappoint.  No questions ask, they agreed to a night out.  We aimed high, with plans to go clubbing and partied like college girls on their spring break.  A quick glance into the mirror sobered us up though.  So we decided to tone-down it a few notches to... going karaoke!.  So folks, that's where I'm going tonight!  Mrs. Mouthy, Ms. Lips, and me, Sweaty.

So I bid you good day for now.  I WILL BE BACK.