Tender pound cake with sweetened flaked coconut, zesty limes, brushed with a tart lime glaze. This cake is like ocean breeze and palm trees.
I have a stray hair on my neck. A hair discovered by Mr. M.O.B. about 8 years ago. He proceeded to point, laugh, pluck it from my neck, and show it to me as proof of impending geriatric-dom. It was cruel, but I may have deserved it…
As I stared at the curly, fugly, stray hair the realization I was getting older dawned on me. One day I’d be rolling in a motorized scooter and instead of in my mouth, my teeth would be floating in some solution, and secured in place by Polydent.
I shuddered at the thought. Me, who at the time did not have a wrinkle in sight was suddenly faced with mortality as I held that one stray neck hair. I admit, for a while the sight of that hair was a source of panic. I felt my friends staring at it, whispering; “Oh, she’s aging… It’s only a matter of time before she needs that hip replaced and starts talking about vitamins”. I’d pluck that damn hair from my neck and out of my life – At least until it reappeared – Alongside visions of third rate nursing homes, a wig most likely placed askew upon my head, and endless games of Bingo.
Eventually I got over it and began accepting the stray hair as part of life. I began to greet it as a passing distant friend, calling it old fugly bastard, plucking it from my neck and bidding it goodbye as it swirled in a pool of sink water down the drain. Adios amigo!
As the years passed I saw less and less of the stray hair until one day while absentmindedly massaging my neck I felt the old familiar prickle of the fugly bastard. I plucked it with one practiced pull and stared at it, dumbfounded. The stray neck hair was now…Silver. After a brief moment of panic I greeted my old friend as before and said; “Looks like you’re getting old too, mofo… Yeah, it happens to the best of us”. Then I flushed it down the toilet. Adios old friend…
Oh, I didn’t bring you here to talk about stray neck hair, though I am quite certain you found the story riveting. The deal is I’m getting older.
Age is inevitable…
I turned 34 yesterday. A year older… A year wiser… With a couple more wrinkles etched in my skin; but it’s all good… I have finally accepted I can’t look 18 forever – Believe me; I tried as long as I could… I’m carving a life I can be proud of; so as long as I’m carvin’, I’m livin’ – And that’s what counts, not crows feet or grandma hands.
Yesterday I rolled in this 1950’s reproduction dress, complete with string of pearls, did this birthday booty dance and blew the candles off this beautiful coconut lime cake…
A cake inspired by yet another song.
This song…
It’s like undiluted tropical drinks and sunscreen…