|Because it's Friday...
||[Jul. 25th, 2008|10:39 am]
...and I've had several really, really tough weeks and all of my contracts are in someone else's hand and while I have a whole bunch of stuff to do...|
Uh, no. I mean, I'm all about being naked and eating...but in a white tablecloth restaurant? With china and silver and linen? And waiters and menus and...way too incongruous. I mean the sexy in a formal dining situation is the undercoverness of it all. The tantalizing, the hinting, the under the tablecloth touches, the flirty way you put food in your mouth. The clothes you chose purposely to make him want to take them off.
Me trying to hide my fat rolls and my girlies underneath a napkin, trying to keep my nipples out of the appetizer...no. I don't want to see the armpit of some guy reaching for the salt and pepper, wondering why he doesn't get that skin tag thing taken care of. Looking at that lady overflowing her chair, with a small chunk of breadcrust stuck in her belly roll, thinking "Honey, you do NOT need another piece of bread." (Which for the record, I HATE myself for thinking, but it's a genetic legacy -- I am the first person in my matrilineal line to NOT say it out loud. And as the primary target for both Mother and G-Mother and someone who shouldn't throw stones, much less eat them, I hate myself even MORE for thinking it.)
Things I so would NOT notice if we were lounging around on the dock in our naturals, one evening, eating tacos -- tacos are the most fun naked because then you DO get little bits of things scattered about your bod and that's FUNNY -- well, put me in a restaurant with fine china and linens and you are going to put me right off my food.
A time and a place for everything, people...knowing which place and which time, this shall set you free...