I once knew a woman who reeked of, was perhaps the embodiment of, empowerment or something very similar looking. It may just have been a very clever illusion, in fact now that I think about it, this is probably the inherent case-in-fact of empowerment, mostly illusion - smoke-n-mirrors, disappearing Statue of Liberty thing... Anyway, I digress.
The night in question, a torrid yet breezy Mexican evening in the caldera hills outside of Guadalajara as we all sat bloated postprandially round the terraza, I watched in abject, drop-mouthed revulsion and dribbling awe as this diminutive, child-sized woman related her triumph over another in a verbal dual. At the climax of their exchange she screeched horribly at her rival, ".....ram my fist up your aaaaasssssssshhhhhhhhhooooooollllllleeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" while she pistoned her tiny, skeletal fist in the air repeatedly ramming her virulent empowerment up the poor adversary's already ravaged colon. Her "Devil-May-Care" attitude struck fear and amazement in my wimpering, cowering heart. Where does one come by such cojones??? Such naked entitlement to yours, theirs and mine?
I need some of what she is having, Garçon!
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1 comment:
you would have had to fight her pitbull of a Hapsburg of a husband (no really... direct descendant of the Mexican branch of the Hapsburgs complete with the giant square head, underbite and name "Roman Maximillian von Hapsburg") it was an interesting time in my life and one about which i should write.... the book, the book...
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