Reunited And It Feels so G-o-o-d!

Dearly Beloved and I attended high schools 200 miles apart, so we didn’t know each other during our teen years.  I don’t mind at all.  That way, I can believe without any doubt that he was as terrific a football player as he says, as Troy Donahue-handsome as his mother says, and as hard-working and industrious as his friends tell me.

In contrast, he pictures that I was not the plain, skinny, mixed up girl I remember (an awkward stage I didn’t outgrow until my 30’s.)

Would I attend one of my own class reunions?  I’d sooner empty Miss Piggy’s anal sacs.

On the other hand, Dearly Beloved’s class reunions are held locally, so it’s easy for him to attend.  He has another one coming up this month– the big 5-0.  I’ve attended two of them and know that the record of the couple who produced four children in three years will remain intact and that the guy who had been divorced four times may have increased his lead, since the astonished expression on his new bride’s face at the last reunion revealed that she was unaware of his dubious distinction.

If they recognized the guy in the best physical shape, DB would be a strong contender.  Sure, his medical records have as much ink as the rest of us, but his exercise regimen–walking a couple of hours a day– has him looking as trim and muscular as he must have been in high school.

Earlier this week we were driving somewhere when he pointed out to me that the sport shirt he was wearing was one he hadn’t been able to wear for some years because it had been too tight.  To show me, he said confidently, “Reach over here and button the collar.”

I leaned over and gave it a try.  No dice.

“It’s not going to work because of your turkey wattle,”  I told him.

“My WHAT???”  He looked genuinely stricken.

“This,” I said, reaching under my chin and flapping my own seductively at him.

“You and I don’t HAVE turkey wattles,” he said, quite definitely, yanking down his visor to confirm his statement in the mirror.

See?  Rose-colored glasses!  I love that about him!

He reached up and buttoned the shirt himself.

“LOOK!”  he said smugly.

I nodded quickly so that he’d undo it before his eyes started bulging.

“Oh yeah.  Lookin’ good, Babe,” I answered.

Here’s a question for you:  Is it a waddle or a wattle?  If you want to waste an afternoon on the internet looking into it, let me know what you decide.  I tried, but stopped to try some of  the exercises one could do to get rid of it, like bending your head from side to side but not touching your ear to your shoulders.  The cellophane sound popping in my neck was so annoying that I moved on to Option B–something about rubbing female testosterone on it.  I couldn’t imagine DB being interested and, since we plan to waddle through life together, I looked no further.

Maybe I’ll knit him an ascot.  They worked for Cary Grant when he could no longer button that top button, not to mention Elvis.  Heck, he couldn’t button down to his waist some days.

Nah.  DB wouldn’t wear it and it doesn’t matter anyhow.  His reunion is the week before Thanksgiving.

Gobble, gobble.

 

 

 

 

 

(Fabulous photo of the ascoted turkey is being used with the kind permission of LynnGuppy.  Her blog is LynnGuppy: Live Music, Fine Art, and General Mischief.  I’m not sure whether this is art or mischief.)

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21 thoughts on “Reunited And It Feels so G-o-o-d!

  1. No reunions for me. The two people I liked are Facebook friends. In fact, I won’t even join my Facebook high school page that talks about reunions. I said when I walked out those doors I was done and I meant it.
    On the other hand—-
    Joe went to grade school reunions, high school reunions, first communion reunions….and every wake of any one in his entire school that died. I never meet a single one of his high school friends until he died.
    I am sure DB will look dashing and debonair and when he will looks around he will smugly know how lucky he was to have closed that 200 mile gap between the two of you.
    No idea about waddle or wattle but I will guess a wattle since a duck waddles?

  2. linfal

    Merrily, it is “wattle”…”waddle” is what you do when you get up from the table after the Thanksgiving dinner. love you, gal.

  3. linfal

    Oh, and by the way, I attended my 50th back in 2009 and it was great fun. Why do we think we have to impress anyone? Why not just enjoy the great memories from high school (of course, you have to HAVE some to remember).

  4. I don’t know if it’s waddle or wattle so if it comes up in conversation I just call it a snood.

    I’ve never been to a reunion. Heck, I didn’t like many of those people back then, much less now. My brother did go to his 50th. He was absolutely delighted that the class “nerd” flew into town in his personal jet. The highschool jock is still trying to sell cars. (Not that there is anything wrong with selling cars, mind you.)

    1. I’m with you about the reunion. SNOOD! Good one!

      It’s a good thing we’re not that harsh about judging people once we get out of school, isn’t it?! Just look at the political races to see how intelligently we select our candidates. (we’re doomed.)

  5. I’m going with WATTLE. As in turkey…
    Not waddle as in duck.

    As for reunions–I only went to one high school reunion. Mostly to see how bad everyone else looked compared to MOI. I was right. I was sort of an outsider during high school–having moved into the district in 11th grade. And I was always so jealous of the cheerleaders, home coming queens, etc. SO when I saw these folk–the women with now ruined faces from too much sun, smoking and/or boozing, and then checked out my own mostly unwrinkled skin–I reached around and gave myself a pat on the back. My mother was right–pretty is as pretty does.

  6. Wattle! Did you ever watch Ally McBeal? Richard Fish had a wattle fetish.

    As for reunions, YUCK! It will be a cold day in hell before I ever attend a high school reunion. Anal-sac emptying sounds much more appealing!

  7. Still laughing over the anal sacs. Don’t worry, everyone there will either have the wattle or mutliple chins.
    I have two schools that claim me for reunions though I only graduated from one. Haven’t been to either reunion. I would hate to see my adorable former beaus or crushes as ordinary, chubby, bald and barely recognizable versions of what they once were. I like my illusions and want them to hold on to theirs.

  8. While DB’s reunion is actually a weekend long get-together, he’s going for only one evening event and somewhat reluctantly to that. He says that his sentiments are much like yours.

  9. I went to my 20th high school reunion but passed on subsequent ones. I did go with my husband to one of his reunions shortly after we got married (second marriages for both of us.) One of his classmates came up to us obviously thinking I was the first wife who had attended the same high school, and then when he realized I wasn’t her he looked shocked and blurted out “What did you do with Marilyn?!” He was such an idiot I wanted to tell him “We killed her and put her down the garbage disposal,” but I didn’t. I just smiled.

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