Let’s not make this any more awkward than it already is. You just saw me naked.
You just came over to trim the trees with your crew. I wasn’t really aware of the extent of the trimming about to take place, because I don’t give a shit about tree trimming. That’s Current Legal Spouse’s department. He set it up. So, I was inside, oblivious as usual. I heard the chainsaws while I was showering but didn’t think much of it. I heard voices while I was toweling off, but I hear a lot of voices. (Take that how you want.) Then it happened. You were there, high up in a tree on a cherry picker and you saw me. Through the top of the big Palladian window. Naked. I saw you seeing me. Awkward.
Peepers gonna peep.
Then I dropped to the ground and belly crawled, ninja-style out of the bathroom. Now that I’ve located my robe and maybe a shred of dignity, I’d like to go over a few things with you, Manuel:
- I’m 43. I’ve had two children and my children are young. This last baby was pretty recent, and maybe I haven’t lost all the baby weight. Okay, fine- she’s 6 years old, but still.
- I was putting lotion on my legs when you saw me and I’m guessing it wasn’t really the most flattering position. My leg was hiked up on the tub like a Sears underwear model. Even Kate Effing Moss has a fat roll when she’s hunched over, okay? A few seconds before that I was stretched out, arms above my head, perky-breastedly drying my hair. I bet my stomach was incredibly… non lumpy. Did you see that? Of course not. I feel I need a do-over, as that was not a true representation of my assets. Just slatherin’ on the body butter.
- Also, for the record, I wasn’t singing “My Sharona”. I don’t care what you think you heard. You are probably partially deaf from that chainsaw.
- I know I need to clean my windows and/or get some better blinds. You need to put your eyes back in your fucking head and concentrate on your job before you lop your arm off, creeper! How dare you?!?
- I’m sorry I lashed out at you just now. I’m feeling vulnerable, Manuel.
- And lastly, not that I care… but, um, I’d just like to know your overall impressions about what you saw in that window. Were you overcome with desire? Or maybe the desire to hurl? Hot? Or not?
I mean, out of all the accidental nudity I’m sure you see, where would you rank me? Sometimes a gal just needs to know that the day laborers still find her attractive, ya know? You get it.
Finally, I hope my little gift to you will be reflected favorably on the bill. Unless you want me to cry. Totally your call.
Okay. Good talk, Manuel. I’m going to hit the gym now. See you next year.
About the Writer
Rachael Pavlik is a writer, mother and Pilates avoider. Author of the popular RachRiot humor blog. She also contributes to Houston Family Magazine and will be featured in the upcoming anthology on motherhood: I Just Want To Pee Alone. She lives in Houston, Texas. Follow her on Facebook and Twitter @RachRiot.