An Affair to Remember

Ladies, ladies, ladies and gentlemen too, I am about to confess about something that I did not want to happen again. Oh yes it had happened a couple of times before, but then it was when I was younger. It was when I didn't have a care in the world. It was when no one cared about how often I did it. My friends and I would do it together. We would express our delight that we were about to do it. We would make jokes about who would do it the most--and I never seemed to win that contest.

Back in the day I could do it every day if I had the opportunity, but luckily that opportunity never happened. It was only a couple of times a month that the opportunity came about.

This year, on Thanksgiving Day it happened again. Oh my god, I could see it coming. I fell in love again. I didn't want to, but I did. He liked the sway of my hips and even liked them to be a little fuller. He said he didn't mind if my skirts were just a tinge too tight, or my jeans were tighter than normal--in fact he encouraged tightness.

He was slick, yes he was. Girls he was the color of caramel colored honey and almost too sweet for words. He looked as good as he tasted when he touched my lips. I thought I was in heaven when my lips could finally touch the sweetness of his. I licked my lips and thanked God for the sense of taste. Could there be anything better than this. I was in love! Can I say it again--I was in love.

I could have him for breakfast, lunch and dinner and even for snacks. I could have him with my coffee--this was the bomb. The warmness of the coffee just enhanced his smoothness. I wanted him, but I wanted him to be gone. The day after Thanksgiving, I was relieved to not see him at first, but as I sipped my coffee he appeared again, and I had to have him. He was even better than the day before. He was saying all of the right things. He even boasted about how no one was able to ignore him. Everyone wanted him, and I was the lucky one to get him.

Thankfully later on that day, someone else had him. He was gone, and I was so grateful. I was grateful for the time we had together, for the memories that he reminded me of. When he left he left a note. The note said that he might be able to come back Christmas Day, but until then he wanted me to go back to my old love; the one that I have to use my imagination with, the one who is just about the same every day. I decided that he was right; I had to go back to my old love and never tell him about the Thanksgiving Holiday.

As I sipped my morning coffee, my old love appeared. He's not as smooth as my new love, in fact he's kind of lumpy. His skin is not caramel colored honey, it's kind of beige, and for the most part he's not that sweet. But has he touches my lips I know that my cholesterol will be normal, my weight will be steady, my skirt will fit nicely and my jeans will be just right. I know this because even though I fell in love with Mr. Buttermilk Pie, I realize that Mr. Oatmeal is my man for all seasons; he and his cousin Exercise. Just don't tell him that Mr. Buttermilk Pie might be back for Christmas.