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When in doubt, fluff
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It rolls around once a month, and this month I’m the hostess. The house is free from dust, my husband is squirreled downstairs in front of the television and the wine is chilling. (1).jpg)
We call ourselves, ‘Whin-n-Women.’ We, that is, my neighboring woman friends who live in my cul-de-sac thought it was quite clever. We drink wine, we whine a lot-what’s left to say?
In the mirror, my reflection betrays me. My mind still thinks I’m twenty-something. No wrinkles or bags, no age spots or sags. Staring back at me is my mother. The one person I vowed (with fervor, I might add) I would never be. Never look like and certainly never act like. But here I am, trying to fix a bad haircut on an especially bad hair day. I straighten, flatten, poof and spray. I look in the mirror to examine the results. With a shake of my head and a roll of my eyes, I quit while I’m still ahead.
The doorbell brings me back to reality. Scurrying out the bathroom to the front door I open my house as my neighbors file in. Grabbing coats and sidestepping shoes I notice how each woman fluffs her hair. It’s the first course of action we take. Fluff together, s-i-g-h. Each fluff more exaggerated, each sigh a little louder.
The evening couldn’t be any more fun. There are always rounds of laughter followed by a round or two of tears. Then I notice something interesting. The fluff is always behind a question. Debbie? How did it go at work today? Fluff, sigh. Diane? Did you finish that project at work on time? Fluff, sigh. It’s always the same. It doesn’t matter what we looks like: the designer outfit we wear, the ten pounds we lose or the battle won at home. We are women. Strong in the boardroom but vulnerable between friends.
So next time you’re enjoying a cozy visit with an old friend, watch for the fluff. When her hand starts to rise, give it a squeeze. With a nod of your head and a smile between friends, she’ll understand. And she’ll know you do too.
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