It began with an innocent cup of coffee at a little cafe on Providence’s East Side. Dozens of people had taken the opportunity of the gloriousness of the day to take their coffees and goodies to the brick piazza outside. Perhaps it was the historic significance of Election Day that made everyone so happy…
Schools were not in session, so kids on bikes were zipping by. Moms pushing strollers looked so happy to be out-of-doors without hats and mittens and blankets. Senior citizens were enjoying the company of the sun. Convertible tops on cars were down.
Life was perfect.
Then she came along. The woman with the pants. The older woman with the yoga-style pants that were too tight. And I’m not talking too tight from behind. No, m’am. These gray yoga-style pants on the older woman were too tight in front. In a particular region. How do I say this delicately… um, camel toe.
These pants were not going there with camel toe. These pants were the very definition of it. All eyes landed on this segment of her surface as she walked confidently into that little cafe piazza and began chatting with some of the older folks. I was hoping some one of her friends may give a little hint… but how does one go about doing that? I mean, this is Providence. You can’t just begin talking about camels. Or can you? I guess I could have said rather loudly to someone near me, “Have you been to Roger Williams Zoo lately to see the camels? They have very interesting toes.”
Nah. But how about some other form of enlightenment… like, “Does this cafe offer chamo-mile toe? I mean, tea?
Or, “Have you noticed the lovely camel-ia shrubs bordering the piazza?” Or even better, “Take a peek at the camel-ia bush.” Too forward? Yes, I thought so too.
Hmmm. She certainly was old enough to remember the Kennedy administration. You know… Camel-ot. Maybe that reference would send a little legendary thrill to her tight little spot?
Alas. The woman had finished her lively conversation with the friends who were either oblivious to her situation or just plain too embarrassed to mention it. Then I thought, “Maybe the woman with the too-tight yoga-pants isn’t familiar with the camel reference…” She did seem so refined and informed and animated in an educated sort-of-way. Yes! That was it!
But by the time I had re-invented the term “camel toe” to the more refined dromedary digit… the older woman in the tight gray yoga-pants had wandered up the street to the next little piazza and was animatedly chatting away with a new set of friends.
Hey. Life was obviously perfect to her, too, on that glorious Election Day. Who am I to question her personal Camelot pants?