My new friend, Yasmine, thinks I can do it. She thinks I can join her belly dance troupe and make scads of money like she does. Just a few lessons, she says, and I'll be jiggling and swaying my way to new found fortune and fame. She recommended the sapphire blue bead-dangled bra and veiled bikini bottom. To highlight my hair and distract from facial hot flashes. (No one will be looking at my face anyway, she says.) But I have to stop eating so much in Turkiye~love handles evidently get in the way of prosperity~ and I have to be totally comfortable with dressing half naked in public. Oh, and I'd have to switch to working at night. Wear more make-up. Tease my hair.And lose the man.
It's bad for business,she says.
Well.
On second thought, I really do enjoy eating, and sleeping in the dark is preferred. (I'm usually yawning by nine). Gobs of make-up isn't my thing, and geez, I hate to exercise. But mostly, losing the man is no option. Not after it took so long to find him.
So, to hell with fortune and fame.
To hell with strange men groping me.
In beads and blue, one man will do.
