To be perfectly honest with you, I do not normally speak to people on the phone when I am wearing only my birthday suit; in fact, I was just dashing by Chris in the passage, on my way to the bathroom, when Chris stopped me and handed me the telephone. Incidentally, I really was ‘dashing by’, rather than sauntering or sashaying by, sexily or otherwise, because all my efforts at dieting recently have been to no avail and I’m feeling a little coy about showing my ample figure naked, except as a flash of womanly voluptuousness as I dash past to the shower. Hence, when Chris stopped me in my tracks and handed me the static telephone, mouthing the words, “It’s Mary”, I felt quite unprepared, both to speak in the nude to my sister, and to stand in the one spot for long enough for Chris to take in the sight.
Happily for me, Chris found the cordless phone and passed it to me. Now able to move and converse at the same time, I went hurriedly into the bathroom and grabbed a towel, which I held up to my chest with my free hand and kept in place either side by clamping it under my armpits. In this fashion I walked back into the kitchen and stood at the far end, in the doorway to the corridor, and opposite Chris, who was leaning against the kitchen worktops. In this manner I talked to Mary for about ten minutes while Chris stayed put drinking his coffee. When the call had finished I returned to the bathroom.
I was getting into the shower when Chris, laughing and smiling, appeared by the open door.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Well, you know when you stood in the doorway/”
“Yes?”
“And you thought the towel was covering your modesty?”
“Yes?” I was starting to get the picture.
“Well, I could see you naked from behind in the mirror at the end of the passage, and because you weren’t aware of what I could observe, you stood there so naturally. That’s why I stayed listening to your conversation. You looked like the seventies poster of the girl tennis player with no panties on.”
I had to laugh. Maybe my pose was similar… There endeth the similarity. Surely? I’m feeling so chubby at the moment. Rubens would have loved me (that is Rubens the Flemish painter, not to be confused with Reuben, our handsome bookworm leader!) Luckily that particular mirror is highly flattering – it’s the one I’ve mentioned to you before on my blog (the type everyone should have to make them feel good!). Now I’m not complaining if my husband chooses to see me in such a wonderful light. But of course, I have to take into account that this compliment comes from the man who remarked suddenly the other morning, while we were sat in bed talking over our cups of tea –
“I love your little tummy!”
“Really?” I asked, looking down at my tummy, “You must like Buddha!”