Painting, Courtesy of Viktor Ostrovsky“He’s such a Kid” She said in adoration. “ He even smells like cookies”
Nobody on the table disagreed with her statement, as if none of the four other ladies could care any less. The overflowing conversation that took place before we joined them was cut abruptly when a waiter looking like a French version of Estefan Rosti wiped the table clear of cigarette ash, changed the ashtray and picked up three empty glasses on the table.
It was quite interesting how you would have all five of them on one table. Five ladies, all different from one another. Three were blonde, three were chubby. Two of them had postgraduate degrees, the other three wanted to follow suit, funny how Women are all about post graduates, trying to prove something?
First there was Leslie Cavanaugh, Journalist. Tall, Big Boned with legs that go on for ever, always dressed in suit pants and silk shirts of every style and color. Her generally big figure hid the fact that she’s quite chubby. She had two curtains of jet black hair covering the sides of her face to further intrigue her profile. The sheer weight she had to carry around made her always the first one to sweat, however shes quite skilled in concealing shortcomings that any girl would fail to distract attention from. Just like her job, she would spin things around into her favor. For instance, any girl her size would perceive the size to be a problem, Leslie looks at it as an advantage, her mere presence takes up space, hence she’s already beaten anyone when it comes to attracting attention.
Her face reminds you of Demi Moore, eyes and smirk of Shannon Doherty, all mixed up with some Rosie O Donnell.
Leslie worked at a small tabloid called “Eye in the Sky” magazine, it was one of those publications that attend happenings everywhere, and followed The people who cant afford to be followed. She even admitted to herself that there is not journalistic value to what she does. She would wish she can offer more, and she will once the chance presents itself.
It did when a power struggle between the shareholders of eye in the sky ended up with the overpowered partner landing the Editor’s Desk. He pushed Cavanaugh up until she was right next to him. He wanted to sleep with her although he was intimidated by big women. She’d refuse his advances very matter-of-factly, treating him like a child who got too attached to an expensive toy at the supermarket.
She Loved Men, loved dominating them, conquering their empires so easily. She saw them as the weakest beings possible, how they cave in so easily for her, she just bats a few eyelashes and they start dropping like flies. What she would refuse to admit to, is that this was just a twisted reflection of her own insecurity towards them. An Absentee father can do that, especially one who is only there to give you shit about being imperfect and disappointing. Bigger room for that growing is the excessive freedom leading a career driven lifestyle, which was very apparent in this big little girl.
Then there was Denise Bowen, a lawyer, divorced after 3 months of marriage. Her ex-Husband was an IT Sales Guru, or so he claimed. She followed him once only to find out he’s some sort of an undercover spy working for a government agency. Instead of looking at it as cool and sexy she just left him. It was the fact that he lied to her that hurt, even if it were about his job, even if it jeopardized her safety, his job or national security. She believed it was her right to know what she was signing up for. Yes she admitted having a handsome international spy for a husband is a woman’s dream come true, however secrets are secrets, and she didn’t want to live in a house full of them. She told him she was leaving, and would rather solve it amicably. He agreed as taking a lawyer to court didn’t sound like the wisest thing ever.
Lying is indeed a terrible thing, the Truth is something we constantly fight for, some people die with it, some people live with it hurtfully, some people just can’t handle it.
That’s why we have True Lies. As a combination of both, are they good? Or are they bad?
Makes one yearn for the days where everything was just black and white, when He-man was undoubtedly good, and Skeletor was sheer evil. Which makes you wonder about other values instilled into our feeble minds, why were the good guys always pretty, handsome and good-looking? And your evil people were ugly and scary…I know it is for emphasis, but apply that to true life, nobody ugly has ever hurt me, however a lot of good looking pretty people did cause me some sort of harm. It’s the ultimate deception really, you let their guard down under the premise of good looking, means good.
Another value I find quite confusing that’s instilled in my head from the good old days is Tom and Jerry. Who’s really the bad guy? Is it Tom ( cause of the food chain..? following the stereotype that cat is out to eat mouse?) when in reality never have I seen a mouse-eating cat, nor heard of one. Or is it Jerry, who is constantly conniving in his mouse hole to rid his dwelling of a domesticated feline pet, and coming up with ingenious, and downright violent methods to make Tom’s life horrible?
Anyways, you wanna know more of my thoughts, set up an interview, I am here to tell a story, and I think you are here to read one, so on with it.
Denise had ideal form and figure for someone in her age and with her lifestyle. The long draining hours at the firm never took a toll on her buff figure. When she didn’t have time to exercise, she made the time. She fears death obsessively and does anything to prolong her life. A new vitamin or health supplement is out on the market, 5 minutes later its in her medicine cabinet. Her diet…a nutritionist’s paradise. Her skin is soft and toned, her hair…something out of a Pantene ad. Her attire always exhumed power and commanded respect. Her attitude just scares you, intimidating however in no way prejudicial, all bite and no bark.
Shes been asked out by many, accepted a few, got into even fewer relationships that culminated in her marriage to Secret Agent Man, after-which she lost her faith in love and relationships to hide her wounds. Ego was too big to fathom that a man’s job can come before his woman. Or in this case, his country.
Nobody on the table disagreed with her statement, as if none of the four other ladies could care any less. The overflowing conversation that took place before we joined them was cut abruptly when a waiter looking like a French version of Estefan Rosti wiped the table clear of cigarette ash, changed the ashtray and picked up three empty glasses on the table.
It was quite interesting how you would have all five of them on one table. Five ladies, all different from one another. Three were blonde, three were chubby. Two of them had postgraduate degrees, the other three wanted to follow suit, funny how Women are all about post graduates, trying to prove something?
First there was Leslie Cavanaugh, Journalist. Tall, Big Boned with legs that go on for ever, always dressed in suit pants and silk shirts of every style and color. Her generally big figure hid the fact that she’s quite chubby. She had two curtains of jet black hair covering the sides of her face to further intrigue her profile. The sheer weight she had to carry around made her always the first one to sweat, however shes quite skilled in concealing shortcomings that any girl would fail to distract attention from. Just like her job, she would spin things around into her favor. For instance, any girl her size would perceive the size to be a problem, Leslie looks at it as an advantage, her mere presence takes up space, hence she’s already beaten anyone when it comes to attracting attention.
Her face reminds you of Demi Moore, eyes and smirk of Shannon Doherty, all mixed up with some Rosie O Donnell.
Leslie worked at a small tabloid called “Eye in the Sky” magazine, it was one of those publications that attend happenings everywhere, and followed The people who cant afford to be followed. She even admitted to herself that there is not journalistic value to what she does. She would wish she can offer more, and she will once the chance presents itself.
It did when a power struggle between the shareholders of eye in the sky ended up with the overpowered partner landing the Editor’s Desk. He pushed Cavanaugh up until she was right next to him. He wanted to sleep with her although he was intimidated by big women. She’d refuse his advances very matter-of-factly, treating him like a child who got too attached to an expensive toy at the supermarket.
She Loved Men, loved dominating them, conquering their empires so easily. She saw them as the weakest beings possible, how they cave in so easily for her, she just bats a few eyelashes and they start dropping like flies. What she would refuse to admit to, is that this was just a twisted reflection of her own insecurity towards them. An Absentee father can do that, especially one who is only there to give you shit about being imperfect and disappointing. Bigger room for that growing is the excessive freedom leading a career driven lifestyle, which was very apparent in this big little girl.
Then there was Denise Bowen, a lawyer, divorced after 3 months of marriage. Her ex-Husband was an IT Sales Guru, or so he claimed. She followed him once only to find out he’s some sort of an undercover spy working for a government agency. Instead of looking at it as cool and sexy she just left him. It was the fact that he lied to her that hurt, even if it were about his job, even if it jeopardized her safety, his job or national security. She believed it was her right to know what she was signing up for. Yes she admitted having a handsome international spy for a husband is a woman’s dream come true, however secrets are secrets, and she didn’t want to live in a house full of them. She told him she was leaving, and would rather solve it amicably. He agreed as taking a lawyer to court didn’t sound like the wisest thing ever.
Lying is indeed a terrible thing, the Truth is something we constantly fight for, some people die with it, some people live with it hurtfully, some people just can’t handle it.
That’s why we have True Lies. As a combination of both, are they good? Or are they bad?
Makes one yearn for the days where everything was just black and white, when He-man was undoubtedly good, and Skeletor was sheer evil. Which makes you wonder about other values instilled into our feeble minds, why were the good guys always pretty, handsome and good-looking? And your evil people were ugly and scary…I know it is for emphasis, but apply that to true life, nobody ugly has ever hurt me, however a lot of good looking pretty people did cause me some sort of harm. It’s the ultimate deception really, you let their guard down under the premise of good looking, means good.
Another value I find quite confusing that’s instilled in my head from the good old days is Tom and Jerry. Who’s really the bad guy? Is it Tom ( cause of the food chain..? following the stereotype that cat is out to eat mouse?) when in reality never have I seen a mouse-eating cat, nor heard of one. Or is it Jerry, who is constantly conniving in his mouse hole to rid his dwelling of a domesticated feline pet, and coming up with ingenious, and downright violent methods to make Tom’s life horrible?
Anyways, you wanna know more of my thoughts, set up an interview, I am here to tell a story, and I think you are here to read one, so on with it.
Denise had ideal form and figure for someone in her age and with her lifestyle. The long draining hours at the firm never took a toll on her buff figure. When she didn’t have time to exercise, she made the time. She fears death obsessively and does anything to prolong her life. A new vitamin or health supplement is out on the market, 5 minutes later its in her medicine cabinet. Her diet…a nutritionist’s paradise. Her skin is soft and toned, her hair…something out of a Pantene ad. Her attire always exhumed power and commanded respect. Her attitude just scares you, intimidating however in no way prejudicial, all bite and no bark.
Shes been asked out by many, accepted a few, got into even fewer relationships that culminated in her marriage to Secret Agent Man, after-which she lost her faith in love and relationships to hide her wounds. Ego was too big to fathom that a man’s job can come before his woman. Or in this case, his country.
Dr. Porter was the reserved and the observant of the bunch. A woman who saved herself from the many disappointments life had to offer. Her refuge was learning, academia, degree followed degree, class and course were still in the dictionary as she approached her thirties. Life experience, zilch… She considered herself an experienced woman who has passed many hardships through the patients at her clinic. She’s treated schizos and depressives, helped them face their fears and overcome them.
Some say people who take problem solving as a career ( and no, by that I am not referring to Mathematicians and IT troubleshooters) are escaping their own problems. They focus their efforts on solving other people’s problems to gain the reassurance they need to think that they are capable beings. It’s quite a viable theory, however if true would be very disappointing, going to a shrink that needs head shrinking themselves isn’t very reassuring, it’s like going to a fat nutritionist, or a démodé stylist.
She spent around a year in Phnom Penh with Medicins sans frontiers. I think it was 2003. She was there helping with healthcare, out there in the hospitals and the out clinics, just helping with any medical expertise she can. One patient wouldyou’re your regular Cambodian suffering from gangrene requiring amputation of his right foot, the next patient would be someone coming in for their regular bout of dialysis with the make-shift kidney machine in the corner. It was exciting at first, she really felt like she was making a difference. But then it got too much. It was always very frustrating how limited resources she and her other peers had to work with. They’d share a scalpel between the four of them, and at times when there were too many people to work on, they would hand it mid procedure in a beaker of Alcohol to avoid any infections and keeping it sterile. This of course would be hell for whoever is undergoing the procedure. Many more of similar stories were always the highlight of any gathering she would be in and the issue of the meaning of life would come up, especially after a few glasses of wine.
She drank, and drank and drank and drank. Only Wine but she was like a sponge. She would have a bottle to herself with every meal except breakfast. Sometimes more if there’s company and the conversation is engaging. She’d always say “There’s more philosophy in a bottle of wine, than in all the books of the world.” Quite a conundrum for someone who is big on academia.
Lydia Simms was the strongest of the bunch. She’s been through a lot. Her hard and unscratchable exterior was merely a shell to cover a wounded interior. Only few can tell, the people she kept close reciprocated keeping by keeping her wounds as well guarded secrets. Maybe they were too horrible to tell, maybe it was just out of being loyal, either way…It wasn’t something to talk about openly.
She sought security, but acted like it was the last of priorities on her list. She craved it on all levels. She wanted a man to take care of her, in the most traditional sense possible. But it was a mark of shame she wasn’t proud of admitting. To the extent that possibly, she might not even know that this is what she really seeks. Her past experiences with the men in her life, mainly her father, brother and a few insignificant suitors left her unsatisfied and ashamed.
Women can be very complex, I don’t need to tell you that.
She had quite a conspicuous appearance. Her fair complexion roasted harshly under the sun, which prevented her from ever getting a proper tan during summers up on the coast. She wasn’t really keen on the coast life during the summer, Shed go to a secluded compound on the eastern side of the coast at a friend’s, One of those compounds that boomed in the first Sahel boom of the late 80’s. Secluded, nothing fancy but at least it’s a proper beach.
Her bright hazel eyes were the first feature of her face that captivated your attention, and would invite you to admire the rest of her more “subtle” features. She had a long bridge for a nose, disproportionate to the size of her actual organ. The nostrils however so minute and miniscule they appear to be two identically sized small dots placed by a thin chaffed marker. Overall as you can tell, it was a nice nose however atypical to a round face with a golden mane.
She had one of those smiles that push up her cheeks to cover her eyes, making them temporarily disappear, and leave a sparky twinkle in their temporary absence.
She was short, even for a girl…it kind of matches the attitude, something I always noted how small creatures appear a lot more fierce than their larger counterparts, to give a false appearance of security. You know how the little dogs bark more and are more prone to initiate attack than the larger, generally much calmer ( and actually more ferocious) Canines.
Think Great Dane lounging under a park bench minding his own business when a little Chihuahua ( or in more visible accounts this side of the world) Kalb Loulou.. just barks and barks and barks and growls to an annoying extent you would just love to unleash the Great Dane to show this little noisy whipper snapper whos boss?
Its kind of different with men, I don’t know why…but all the small men I have met, ( the ones who stay small and do not pop pills and chug shakes and spend their livelihood on hours at the gym to compensate their insecurities) are actually more confident, funnier , and a lot more appealing than the large bulky gorillas that supposedly can cream’ em at a barfight.
However with men, loudness has no connection whatsoever with Body size.
Just makes you wonder how as human beings, and at the rate of how sophisticated we have become, we would be over such basic insecurities such as size, and still allow them to alter our characters and personalities. I mean this isn’t fat/ muscle I am talking tall/ short…wide narrow. With the technology and money and research capabilities around, there are industries that cater to our insecurities towards beauty in the sense of make up, hair dyes, creams etc… that make us prettier, Weight loss, cosmetic surgery that makes us thinner…but not a single dime, study or product that makes us Taller. And it is bone size that scares us the most out of all of these.
Despite her aggressive attitude Lydia has managed to make more friends than enenmies. People who didn’t like her attitude merely stayed away rather than put her on their hate lists. Shed speak out openly if she would disagree with you, but place her criticisms so objectively, and argue so convincingly, without getting you into the equation. Hence attacking your behaviour, or your belief without even scratching you in the process. The mannerisms of a true critic. She’s attacked me verbally many times, never in a manner that insulted me, but surprisingly, the conclusion of her trashing monologues was how Shit I am.
You would imagine that a person like her, who was physically, emotionally and sexually abused by a father, stricken with a sudden financial situation close to poverty and slowed down by Type I Diabetes would pack less punch or at least take it easy with her life. She married a poet turned screenwriter, who amassed tremendous success in his latter career.
With great success, comes greater Women…
Sorry, I meant Bimbos…
Can’t blame the guy, Living with Lydia under one roof just kills you…especially when she’s ten times more ambitious, ten times more successful, and does not refrain from reminding you where you go wrong, every time you go wrong. Try six years of that then find a Bimbo aspiring to become the next screen idol asking you to autograph her right boob.
In contrast, what do you think that did to Lydia’s already faltering faith in men.
Alice Simms, was not that different from her sister ( el ab bayen 3aleeh kan haygan awi we me2adeeha fel beit), she was taller, fatter, and took to their mother in terms of humility and wisdom.
She graduated top of her class. Constantly haunted by her past, this woman had a cause. She believed in the concept of the Devine Feminine, after reading a book by Dan Brown, It wasn’t the start..it just molded the way for her. She dedicated her life to gender studies, started rallies and 5 ( yes five) failed women’s lib movements. They’d start campaigns creating awareness against Female Genital Mutilation, but would be always stopped short by some government middleman who thinks shes giving sex-ed classes to peasant girls.
Shes written many books about female empowerment in male dominated societies, furthermore she actually – in one of her equally controversially titled and filled books- promoted faking orgasms as a means of attaining leverage versus domineering males. The book was called “Fake it, to Make it”.
She had a scar on her left cheek from a protest, she swears shes going to castrate the undercover police bully that did that when she finds him.
Of course with an attitude like that, the closest thing she would get to a mustache in her life is to refrain from plucking her facial hairs for a year or two.. which is already a no brainer since she is against “dolling up”.
Despite that, she is literally very tight with: Queen Rania, Uma Thurman, Nicole Kidman, Natalie Portman, Mama Suzanne, Mama Nawal, Oprah, Julia Roberts, Madonna and Mona el Shazly.
Shes a very powerful figure on the political arena, which landed her a lot of contacts and hence, contracts…you should see the digits on her bank account.
All this makes her quite the challenge when it comes to gigolos and playboys, who despite her looks and mannerisms find her as a jackpot.
She’d fall for them everytime.
Enter The Cookie Smelling Man…(CSM)
He’s the only thing they all have in common..
CSM was short, very well toned he’d rip what he’s wearing. Light skinned and a mix between Mickey Rourke ( think 9 ½ weeks not Man on Fire) and Mark Wahlberg ( think planet of the apes not Marky Mark).
CSM wanted to play in the NBA, he was a good three point shooter.
That was before he wanted to be a Rap star, and after he wanted to be an actor.
CSM is a stockbroker, working for Goldman Sachs…blending in lovely with Wall street.
In a few weeks, hes going to propose to Denise, and move to Cairo with her, his first time ever out of the US.
Save Alice and Lydia, They all, will never meet again.
However, they all will agree…That the morning after, CSM always smells like cookies.
