Sunday, September 26, 2004

Sin City Chapter Five: Flaunting what my mama gave me

Can you believe I'm still writing about my Vegas trip... two weeks later?

A bikini wax doesn't even last that long.

Anyway, speaking of wax jobs... anyone who has ever visited Vegas knows you see a lot of 'em walking around. From short skirts to visible chest hair (ew, gross), there's a lot of skin to be seen in Sin City.

Mine included.

photo courtesy of the fine people at Caramel Bar & Lounge at the Bellagio

So I am not used to putting myself out there... at least in the physical sense. In many instances I've got enough confidence to power a steamboat... but where the bod is concerned...

not so much.

It's those same longing leers that most girls invite that I happen to find quite intimidating. Some men stare at me (and beautiful women in general) with such passion and vigor that their facial expression makes me wonder: Do you want to take me out to dinner, or eat me for dinner?

They lick their toothy grins... just salivating, eyes sparkling and glinting as their focus skips and dances over every juicy curve, every secret crevice, just planning the celebration of their conquest before the battle plans have even been drawn.

I am sure it's the reaction much like what Lil' Red Riding Hood encountered when meeting the wolf.

All that aside, I decided Las Vegas was a place I could be pretty anonymous with my appearance: sit in one spot on the Strip for five minutes and you'll see no less than 20 pairs of breasts (most fake, I might add) and just as many short skirts.

Vegas was the perfect place for me to take it off, and take it off I did.

I packed nothing but bikinis, short skirts, camisoles and low cut shirts. I had a pair of khaki capris in the bag (kind of as a security blanket, I guess) but they didn't come out until the flight home. You never know who you're gonna bump into at an airport, and I wanted to make sure I looked respectable (Oh, hi, Uncle Mike. Haven't seen you in ages. So, how are the kids?) for the return to little, tiny Lexington.

But for one brief weekend in Vegas, the ol' twins (which are nicknamed Woodward and Bernstein, by the way) were treated to some fresh air and the hot, desert sun.

They can't wait to go back. Glad they have to bring me with them!

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