A Great Recovery
This morning, I took my tiny 9 pound dog for a walk, as I do every morning. Our morning walk is generally a little blurry, with Sophia attempting to rip my arm off every time she sees a lizard, and my watching the skies suspiciously for hawks.
My dog looks far too much like a rabbit for my liking and I suffer from regular nightmares where some evil hawk carries her off to be breakfast. FYI; if this shit were to happen in real life, I would embark on a vendetta against that striped bird of prey that would make ‘Rambo’ look like ‘The Notebook’. Can’t take revenge on nature my ass, Melville. I would hunt down that hawk; I would kill it, then eat it and make a hat out of its feathers.
Sorry, I got a little off track. But if any hawks were reading, take note and tell your friends. Essa Alroc doesn’t fuck around and she looks fantastic in feathers.
Anyway, it’s sundress season here in Florida. This is a great time for me, as I love being able to wear something that I can work in, sleep in and still get doors opened for me at the convenience store.
This morning, I was wearing my personal favorite, a red little number with a dangerously low bust line. As I walked my dog, I made it past the tennis court, where two muscular men were playing a couple of rounds. As I walked by, they both raced over to the fence, damn near coming through it to try and get my attention.
“Hey lady?” They were both smiling. I assumed it was because I was so very adorable.
“Yeah?” I turned to look at them.
The taller one snickered. “Can you throw us our ball? It went over the fence.” They were still snickering and I couldn’t figure out what was so damn funny.
Then, I realized that my entire left breast was hanging out of my top.
I could have just rushed away red faced. I could have yanked up my shirt and headed for the hills. Instead, I left the boob hanging out as I tossed the ball back to them. Then, I dropped on of my patented one liners.
“You boys should come back tomorrow. I take the right boob out on Saturdays, and that one is way better.” Then I walked away.
Always leave them wanting more.
I have one superhuman skill. It’s not x-ray vision. It’s not supermodel looks. It’s not a high IQ. It’s my recovery ability.
Have you ever got into an argument with someone? Then, later on, long after the argument, you think of a great comeback and say “I should have said that!” Yeah, that really sucks.
Luckily, that’s never happened to me. At least not since I was twelve.
Growing up, I was blessed with a chubby physique and a smart assed older brother, with a lot of smart assed older friends. At first, their barbs hurt, but then I learned how to respond. For that, I can only thank them, as they taught me a valuable skill.
Never take yourself too seriously.
As I got older, and infinitely hotter, that ability never left me. I’m never without a response and I know how to banter like a pro. It’s why I can walk around with my left tit hanging out all morning, and still look like I’m doing on purpose.
There is one rule that I have that has helped me along the way. Don’t react…just respond.
Look, 100 years from now, is anyone going to care that two random dudes saw my left tit on a morning walk? Probably not. Don’t get me wrong, my tit is great, but it’s not that great. It was my response that makes it a great story.
Never underestimate the power of a great recovery. When these two college boys tell this story (and you know they will) how do you think its going to end? My pathetic boob hanging out? Or, is my last sentence going to be the punch line to a truly awesome joke?
If I have to be anything before leaving this world, I’ll take being the punch line to a truly awesome joke. That’s the kind of shit that makes you immortal. Just ask the rabbi, the Catholic priest and the carpenter that walked into a bar.
