Girls Talk

I was feeling too ill to go to a friend's Friday night Interfaith service with their assortment of strange people, myself included, which also included drumming and acoustical guitar accompaniment and a pot luck dinner. I was terribly flu-ish, even though I didn't look flu-ish. Plus - the weather people predicted snow in Jerusalem. It never happened. But what did happen....

One of my close friends took me out for breakfast on Friday morning. It is impossible to spend 5 minutes with her and not meet and greet someone she knows. She knows everyone in Jerusalem. She's like a human Jerusalem landmark. I am so intrigued by her - like when we were walking around Jerusalem one Saturday afternoon - she had copped some roasted weed which we both shared and ate, giggling throughout the afternoon, not knowing where we were walking. And we walked for hours. We walked along the deserted railroad tracks admiring the Spring flowers and saw a sign that said "DANGER TO LIFE - DO NOT ENTER". Ooops. Too late now. We both hugged each other and screamed "We're ALIVE"!!! and laughed even harder.

And when we both stood outside a synagogue one Saturday and she talked loudly about some guys and their "hard ons". Wouldn't you know it - at that moment, one of the more sophisticated looking male congregants strolls out of the synagogue, hears the words "hard ons" and shoots ME a disgusted glance. Right - guilty by association. Better we have this conversation outside the conversation rather than during the Rabbi's speech, wouldn't you think?

She told me that she asked one of her male friends to bring her back lingerie. I was hysterical.

"You trust this guy to bring you back bras from the United States? What if you get something kitschy like a red bra with black lace or something horrible like that."

My husband won't even buy feminine pads for the daughters in our house, never mind buying me a brassiere. I do my own lingerie buying, thank you.

The conversation turned to an acquaintance who got a "boob job" done.

"You can always tell if they're not real" I told her.

"I touched them, and they feel real."

She touched them? Even though I'm curious about saline-silicone-implants, I've never had the gall to ask someone if I could touch them.

She heard that at menopause boobs get bigger and seemed terribly worried about it for herself. Well it certainly gives ME something to look forward to, plus they'll feel AND look natural.