Part 5

Too Old for a Mid-Life Crisis; Too Young for Medicare

Part V

This week found me in the bargain basement of the local large women’s (the store, not the women) clothing store, hunting for the perfect outfit to make my husband drool and be the envy of all the women at the reunion. I’ve definitely come to the wrong place.

While trying on a sleek number that would make Ma Ingalls proud, I spotted Mitzi Rymer. She found me crouched behind a rack of dresses.

“Sandy! Are you looking for dresses for the community play too? That one’s perfect!” she cooed.

I eased out of the rack and stood up. “”Uh, yeah, that’s what I’m doing. What do you think of this one? By the way, are you going to the reunion?” I asked, wondering how I could get out of this with my dignity intact.

“Yeah, if I can find a dress to wear. How about you?” she answered.

I stepped back into the dressing room to change, talking through the door. “I was thinking of trying that new dress shop over on Lincoln Boulevard.”

Mitzi and I left and headed to the dress shop, passing a coffee shop. “Let’s grab a bite before we try on dresses,” she suggested.

Good idea! Get all bloated from salt THEN try on dresses. Brilliant!

We ordered sandwiches and drinks and waited for the waitress to leave.

“What have you been up to lately?” Mitzi asked, reaching for the sugar for her tea.

I let my eyes dart around the room to make sure no one was listening. “Promise not to tell?” I asked conspiratorially.

Mitzi nodded yes.

“I’ve been reading . . . self-help books,” I whispered.\

“No!” Mitzi gasped. “You? You’re the most together person in our bridge club. Does Derek know?”

“He knows about some of them. I’m forced to hide in the bathroom most days to keep from being discovered. I keep them hidden in the back of my closet behind my purses. I promised him I’d cut back to once a month. Last night he found me huddled behind the garage reading ‘Joining the Sexual Revolution, It’s not for Sissies’ by Ima Fox.

I had just started it when Derek busted me. I didn’t get a chance to read past the cover but it was very provocative. It said women need to take charge of their,” I glanced around to make sure no one could hear, “S-E-X lives! Can you believe it?”

“Where’d you get it?” Mitzi stared in wide-eyed wonder.

“There’s a bookstore in the wrong part of town that sells all kinds of stuff like that. I heard Georgia Parker got hooked last year when she wandered in and the clerk gave her an excerpt to try. That’s how they suck you in, you know. I tried going cold turkey two weeks ago but found myself in the book section of the big box store sniffing the pages.” I hung my head in shame.

We spent the rest of the afternoon trying on dresses and avoiding the subject of self-help books, but I could tell it was still on her mind. We finally found what we were looking for and paid for our purchases.

As we got in our cars, I saw Mitzi turn the corner going the opposite direction of her house. That’s the way to the bookstore! Being careful to keep my distance so she wouldn’t spot me, I followed her just to see where she was going. Sure enough, she entered the bookstore. Fifteen minutes later, she emerged carrying a package wrapped in plain brown paper. I felt like a pimp.

After my afternoon torture of dress shopping with Mitzi, I returned home. Pulling into my driveway, I checked to see if Derek was home. Assured I was alone, I rushed to the bedroom and put away my new dress and searched for the book Derek has confiscated.

It was nowhere in the bedroom so I checked the next logical place, the garage. I found it stuck behind some oil cans and rags in a box marked ‘Julie.’

I climbed into the kids’ treehouse in the backyard and cracked the book open.

The Sexual Revolution was started in the 1960s by horny teenagers rebelling against the ‘establishment’. Well, duh. But how does that help a middle-aged housefrou, er, wife?

Thumbing through, I skipped to chapter fifteen, ‘Sex and the Middle Ages.’ Whoa! Makes me sound ancient.

1. Try setting a mood. Drape a piece of sheer fabric over a lamp. Light some candles. (The last time I did that Derek found out I hadn’t paid the light bill.)
2. Buy Satin Sheets
3. Buy oils to rub on each other.

That night I dug through my drawer and found an old nightgown that was nearly worn through. I draped that over the lamp.

Next, I put on the satin sheets we had stashed in the top of the closet (an unused Christmas gift from his brother), and set out the oils.

When Derek came in he looked around and frowned. “Did you find that book? You did, didn’t you?” he accused.

“Yes I did,” I replied, unrepentant. “I did it for us.”

“No, you did it for you,” he retorted, “You’re hooked.”

“I can quit anytime I want to.” Tears welled in my eyes. Could be I was upset or could be because the nightgown had caught fire on the lamp.

Derek put the fire out and climbed into bed. “Where are our sheets?” he asked, pulling back the bedspread to reveal the blue satin sheets.

“I’m trying to set a mood,” I replied coyly.

“Better than trying to set the house on fire,” Derek cracked.

Grabbing the oils, I proceeded to rub his back. That was a bad idea. Between the satin sheets and the oils, he kept sliding out of bed.

I guess I’ll go back to being a housefrou. It’d be a lot less trouble.

#