In “The Night Of The Boiled Okra Horror,” I wrote about receiving the sex talk.
In this story, I give the sex talk.
Neither one went well.
I felt his hand slide across my butt, then a quick pat. “If we don’t get going, we’re going to miss the entire party,” Henry said as he planted a quick kiss on my shoulder, flipped off the covers and leaped out of bed.
A whoosh of cold air hit my fat exposed body. Yikes. Grabbing the covers, I yanked them up and hid. Six months in to the marriage and he’d never seen me naked.
Today wasn’t going to be that sad “Naked Revelation” day. Not if I could help it.
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Growing up, I avoided inviting friends home for dinner. Too embarrassing. But, that did not stop my mother. She would push, “Honey, why don’t you have your little friend join us for dinner?” She’d say it in front of them. And I’d die… because I knew how dinner would go. Because it always went the same. She’d serve steak, baked potatoes and a vegetable. And, the conversation… no matter how it went, always bit me in the ass. … Read more