Blood and ashes

Reading coldandgray�s most recent entry reminded me of an experience I had in a painting/drawing class I took when I was already working as a legal secretary, offered at night at my old highschool. We had a particularly zaftig model that evening, so overweight in fact that I had a hard time drawing her. By the end of the session I was doing all right, but up till then I was rather embarrassed about depicting her rolls and excesses in graphite. Anyway, during her breaks, she would don a caftan, or some roomy garment that zipped up the front, and wander around the class admiring or critiquing the portraits we had been doing of her. The thing I noticed was that she had just been stark naked a few minutes ago in front of us, and yet as she made her way from desk to desk, we were all taking peeks down the front of her caftan at her massive cleavage.

My student�s lesson went much better this morning. The pretence is working and we�re getting some actual teaching and (hopefully) learning done. However, I did get some bad news before that that has changed everything. Vlad phoned to say that the Duke spoke to her yesterday and told her that the Duchess has a tumour in her breast. She�s having a biopsy on Tuesday, but the doctor is so sure it�s going to be malignant that he�s already scheduled surgery for Thursday. I didn�t know what to say. I know that the Duchess and I haven�t really been friendly since all the unpleasantness in the department last spring, but she was still my best friend for 15 years. I�m not going to abandon her now.

Little Princess needed to buy an E string for her violin (actually a borrowed electric violin) so we went up to the mall, made a quick stop at the music store, then proceeded to Sirens so she could experience first-hand the joy of sequins and beads. She enjoyed it so much that she bought herself an adorable beaded and sequinned halter top that ties behind (leaving her more or less naked in back) in the loveliest lavender (marked at $15 and reduced at the cash to $10) and a pair of sunglasses. I tried on some things too, but they didn�t look right with my gray roots coming in, so I forebore purchasing anything. Mind you, one of them was a black camisole with a design in silver sequins that looked quite striking, but when my gaze travelled back up to my face in the mirror, I saw a 48-year-old woman looking back at me. So, no, I didn�t buy it.

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