I’m trying to remember what stories I’ve told on this blog, and the stories I haven’t told yet. For one reason or another, this story is on my conscience.
As Sophia would say on the Golden Girls, picture it: the Tampa Bay area of Florida, 1978. My family is throwing a get together one summer day for some friends who are colleagues at Publix – where my Mom and Dad work. One of my dad’s closest colleagues is a bigwig at Publix. My dad and him got along well, despite the different rungs of the corporate ladder they had.
“The Bigwig” (or so shall I call him on here) had a much younger wife, probably in her 20’s in 1978 as the others there were in their late 20’s, 30’s, and 40’s. She was a very shapely brunette who got noticed in bathing trunks, let’s just put it that way – especially a two-piece bikini. We’re all in the pool together on a late Sunday afternoon, and I’m swimming around thinking everything is normal – but then again, I’m just shy of seven years of age when what was about to happen happened.
I’m not too far away from “The Bigwig’s Wife” when some of the men start conspiring behind her. A plan was hatched, and I see one part of The Wife’s two piece bikini disappear – much to the amusement of everyone else. The Wife’s breasts were now dangling about, above average in size – all a few feet away from me. She was a bit shocked, and so was I. My mother very quickly asked me to leave the pool and go watch something on TV, and I complied – though I remember being suspicious of whatever was going on that I couldn’t figure out.
I was told many years later that the adults had to get me out of the way – so that the other woman in the group could also remove their tops without the risk of the incident warping my life somehow. It probably explains why that particular part of a woman is and has always seemed to be my favorite body part.