I haven’t done any holiday baking yet, ’cause – you know . . .in our midlife and beyond house, sugar, butter,chocolate and taste have all taken on a four letter pseudonym – EVIL.
Did you ever notice the connection between evil and devil (or good and God for that matter? Think about it.).
Anyway, these things are evil in our house, the devil incarnate that makes my hips blossom and fills my hubbie’s already clogged arteries with more plaque. They are taboo, forbidden, off limits . . .
. . . tantalizing little temptations promising to delight my taste buds and satisfy my tummy in a way that indulgences of the non-food variety could never do.
But it’s the holiday’s right? We need to indulge a little. If my husband croaks any time soon, I guess you can blame me for taking a week or so off from my food-police duties.
I’m beginning to get an idea of how Eve felt, branded throughout time as the inadequate mate who fed her hubby the wrong thing and cast him into abject misery outside his happy little life in the garden. Uh, he heard the Word too. Think he might have been capable of saying, “No thank you, Eve. I’ll pass on the apples.”
This afternoon, I’m whipping up some of my Aunt Mug’s (Margaret if you must) Toffee Squares. Auntie Mugs was a Buxom Babe.
A few days ago I started contemplating the word buxom. While it technically refers to a womanly part of the anatomy that lies above the waist, I believe it’s general implication is of a shapely women in the Reubanesque style. Let’s face it, for the most part, assuming nature is the underlying architect, if the womanly figure is full up top then chances are good she’s shapely at the belly and hips as well.
What’s not to love about that?
Finally, a wonder woman archetype to which I can live up – uhm, out? (I didn’t find any information of Marvel Comics requesting a cease and desist on this one.)
And since I’ll be parking my buxomness in Florida soon, for a whole month of decadent deck lounging . . .
how about this?
I like her, she reminds me a lot of the Queen of Cups card in my Tarot deck.
(click on the pic to see more beautiful, one of a kind creations at the artist’s website)
This Goddess is growing weary of the pursuit of perfection to be had in a size 8 mini skirt. I think for the new year, I’ll resolve to embrace by rubenesqueness (I made that derivation up. I like the way it sounds) and free the buxom babe I am meant to be.
Now, that’s a plan I can wrap my mind around, if not my arms.
. . . . . . mid