Posts Tagged ‘very old people should not wear bikinis’

All Mothers of Multiples know that part of our job description is dealing with people who feel compelled to call us out on having multiples. Some of these strangers are nice, many are well- meaning, a few are quite obnoxious, and some are downright crazy. As the only Mother of Multiples on this island (that I know of) I thought I’d seen it all…

Turns out I hadn’t. I recently met the craziest, most offensive old hag on the planet. I knew from the get go she was trouble, smelled the crazy on her and would have gone out of my way to avoid her, but she outsmarted me- jumped through the elevator doors as they were closing. At a resort. We were having a mini getaway thanks to a killer hotwire deal. It was 10am, and my husband and I were returning to our room after a refreshing dip in the pool, to put the girls down for a nap. Suddenly BAM! There she was. A woman well into the grandma years, wearing a string bikini. Serious breech of resort etiquette. One wears a cover up in the hotel. Always. Sometimes newlyweds like to wander around the resort in their hotel bathrobes, bless their little hearts, but that’s as informal as it gets. By all means let it all hang out at the beach, but no one wants your bits in their face inside a cramped elevator.

The second the doors close, old elephant skin starts yapping away, asking if the bar is open. We say we don’t know. Its 10am, were holding babies, we’re that last people who’d know bar hours. She says she’s dying for a Coors. Goes on to explain the differences in the price of Coors at the various resort bars. Coors, Coors, Coors, yap yap yap. Who is this woman? She’s got this resort thing all wrong. Champagne with breakfast? Bien sur. Mojito with lunch? Muy bien. Pimms and lemonade in late afternoon? Capital! Coors at 10am? Hell to the no.

Just when I’m starting to think that this is the longest elevator ride I’ve ever been on, it gets worse. The alarm goes off. The elevator stops. I full out panic. I CANNOT stand another moment with this woman. The elevator starts again. The hag blames Mumu, accuses her of hitting the alarm button. Probably true, but not polite to say so, and I hit the button for the next floor, knowing this woman is going to a higher floor, just to get the hell away from her. My plan is thwarted. She actually follows us off elevator, and waits with us for the next one. Gets off on our floor, and follows us. I know she’s following us, because I deliberately take a detour to a side lobby/sitting area, and she follows us in. She points to Lulu, whom my husband holding, and asks him if “That’s a girl too.” He says yes, and the crazy old hag seizes my arm and lets out a huge sigh. Then she gives me this deep, pitying look and says, “Well, I guess those are the breaks, huh?” Say WHAT???

I’m too stunned to answer, and in my silence, she follows up with “8 papaya seeds.” I don’t respond, because she’s obviously lost her mind, and she grabs my arm again, saying ever louder, “8 PAPAYA SEEDS! NOT NINE, EIGHT. Take them every night. Best birth control in the world.” Then she pats my hand. I totally want to punch her in the mouth. Yeah, why don’t I just eat 30 papaya seeds and sterilize myself so god forbid I don’t have any more beautiful, wonderful, incredibly sweet baby girls? Crazy, skanky old ho.

So I’m steamed about this conversation for a few minutes, walking back to our room. Then, I’m oddly grateful. It occurs to me that this woman was bothering us because she was all alone. All alone and desperate to drink. Based on our conversation, I don’t think she had any children of her own (those papaya seeds served her well). I pity her, because when I’m her age, if I play my cards right, I’ll have two smart, happy, well-adjusted adult daughters who will pat my hand and say “Mom, we love you… but you are way too old to wear that bikini.” That is, if I suffer from dementia and convince myself that I could, at any age, pull one off. And a husband to pour me a morning mimosa, and walk with me on the beach. So thank you crazy old hag, wherever you are. Its always good to be reminded how lucky we are.



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