Glitter and Shiver

Saiffuddin came home from Syria with what he thought was his ticket to redemption.

It was so not.

My husband bought me a belly-dancing costume, of all things -- a three piece with tinsel and tassels, fit to be worn only in harems, which I guess was the inspiration for the purchase. The get-up consisted of a glittery choker, a bodice that was really a glorified bra two sizes too small, and a sort of wrap around skirt with peaked edges, all black and sheer and covered in strings of tiny gold discs.

Of course, I had to try it on. I understand why it's called a belly dancing costume, because you could certainly see my tummy getting jiggy wid' it. Like jiggy, jiggy. Jiggy, jiggy. My husband, blessedly myopic, or just plainly lying, thought I looked wonderful. No need to imagine, my dears, I can tell you right now : a 36 year old mother of three with the inevitable weight problem does not look good in midriff-baring mode. So, until I have belly dancing lessons or a major liposuction, that outrage will remain in my wardrobes' top shelf, never to see the light of day.

Saiffuddin did redeem himself in the end, and listen carefully, it costed him nothing. A word of regret, kisses on my feet, and all is forgiven.




mokciknab muttered at 3:38 pm ~ ~