Entry 282
Last night I was at church, in the fellowship hall
downstairs. I got the coffee ready and warmed a coffeecake
in the microwave, and then waited for the end of the
service. There’s always an hour of fellowship and coffee
afterwards, and sometimes that’s when the best religious
discussions are made.
I was warned by Daddy not to get too deeply into doctrine
and debates. It isn’t a woman’s place, I know. He thinks if
I cause a fuss at all it reflects poorly on him, and hurts
his chance at regional director- think HUGE pay increase!
But, if they thought all these thoughts, if they
contemplated these things, then I wouldn’t have to bring
them up, right?
So, ok. They came downstairs. I was sitting by the
coffee station, kinda like a bar. It felt kinda like being a
bartender, and asking people which kind of coffee, or
whatever, is a lot similar in a fellowship hall to a bar, or
a men’s club. Like this-
“Hi hon! How are you feeling? Well, what can I get
you? Coffee, ok, would you like a little sugar? HAHA,, not
THAT kind of sugar, you’re so feisty tonight, I love that!
Can I get you some milk? Let me know if there’s anything
else you need ok? “
That was a real 10 seconds at the fellowship hall- could
be at the club huh. The man was a married man about 50, but
men, women, 10 or 70 years old, people are the same I think.
OK the point was, three men decided not to sit but to
stand at the bar there with me, and they were talking
doctrine. Well, talking doctrine, and then doing that
“include” thing- where halfway through a sentence they look
you in the eye, like, “you’re following this right?” I
nodded and listened, and asked things. Well they were all
too ready to talk to me! Who hates attention? About an hour
later, these men are looking and sounding exactly like men
at the dance club. The way men giggle, or do little arm
shoving and stuff, like “hey look at me, I’m the kewl one!”
I had to rinse out the coffee pot, which is one of those
tall aluminum things, holds a couple gallons actually. I
excuse myself, and clutched it to me and took it into the
little kitchen.
I’m washing it out, and I’m a little wet on the front of
my dress, from the condensation of the aluminum pot. I wipe
it a little, and I realize, I have worn the wrong bra! I
wore a tan, sheer half-cup with the full straps- the straps
way out by my shoulders. It has a little edge of lace, and
it really is comfy. I can’t even feel it really. The dress
was a light yellow nylon “fake silk” with a normal neckline,
knee length hem, no pleats or gathers. It’s either very
peasant-like, or understated elegant, whatever.
Right above me and a little in front, were these
floodlights in the ceiling. They felt great cuz they were
warm and I spent most of the night standing there, or
picking up cups and stuff off the tables. Well standing
there in the kitchen I was aware that my nipples were almost
completely visible. OK, not completely but men have x-ray
vision, and it didn’t take much imagination. I carried the
coffee pot back. I hoped a few seconds of the floodlights
would dry the dress off.
The men were all talking about the point I brought up.
And they were generally agreeing with me, though I never
really hit the point hard. It felt really good to have been
right and yet not made a huge deal about it. We all started
talking again, and even telling jokes, it was a great
feeling, till I looked down during a lull in the talking.
The floodlights on my yellow silk dress made the tan
color of the bra come through. I looked up at one of the
men, and he was totally on my chest. I watched his eyes, his
jaw. His eyes roamed from my breasts, to my neck, to my
mouth, to my eyes, then my hair, then down my shoulder and
back, and since I was behind the bar, that was as far as he
could see, so his eyes went back to his coffee cup, and
through it to my chest and tummy again. All three of them
were talking, but their eyes were all doing the same thing.
TEST- ladies try this- if men are all talking, listen to
what they're saying, ok? Then roll your shoulders back a
little and take a deep breath, quietly and not too
demonstratively. Lean in a little when you do. If the
conversation stops, or they repeat what they were saying,
their talking is just a cover, they’re really all about you.
I was looking at their eyes, all interested in my
shoulders and my breathing. Normally I would so freak and
like run or at least get my jacket. But that was when I
realized two things important. Well, three.
1- If I had been wearing a potato bag or like a McCall’s
homemade “bag” dress, they wouldn’t have been standing
there, I would have been bored and just part of their
backdrop.
2- If I hadn’t worn that dress, that bra, my hair that
way, they wouldn’t have cared about my opinions and my
doctrine opinions never would have been agreed to! My looks
opened doors and unlocked their locked hearts that the truth
alone can’t open!
3- I wasn’t getting my coat; in fact I leaned in a couple
times like I couldn’t hear them! Once I knew they were at
the bar to drink in a big glass of ME, and that the more
they drank the more my opinions seemed to matter, it was
just like being in the men’s club, only less dancing and
smoke, and no lap dances.
I let them help me get my coat, and walk me to my car,
and I waited up all night to hear it from my parents, but
guess what? They didn’t notice, and after calling around,
there really was only a few that did, even Jen and Dave
didn’t notice, but maybe they’re kinda like immune? She
didn’t work at the club that night and couldn’t get a sitter
so she managed to talk Dave into coming! If it had been
really noticeable he would definitely have noticed, and he
didn’t. So I’m not a total bimbo slut, still have my dignity
and reputation, thank God, and my doctrine opinion is
getting passed around as gospel truth now in the bible
classes. What a kewl night!
Entry 282
Last night I was at church, in the fellowship hall
downstairs. I got the coffee ready and warmed a coffeecake
in the microwave, and then waited for the end of the
service. There’s always an hour of fellowship and coffee
afterwards, and sometimes that’s when the best religious
discussions are made.
I was warned by Daddy not to get too deeply into doctrine
and debates. It isn’t a woman’s place, I know. He thinks if
I cause a fuss at all it reflects poorly on him, and hurts
his chance at regional director- think HUGE pay increase!
But, if they thought all these thoughts, if they
contemplated these things, then I wouldn’t have to bring
them up, right?
So, ok. They came downstairs. I was sitting by the
coffee station, kinda like a bar. It felt kinda like being a
bartender, and asking people which kind of coffee, or
whatever, is a lot similar in a fellowship hall to a bar, or
a men’s club. Like this-
“Hi hon! How are you feeling? Well, what can I get
you? Coffee, ok, would you like a little sugar? HAHA,, not
THAT kind of sugar, you’re so feisty tonight, I love that!
Can I get you some milk? Let me know if there’s anything
else you need ok? “
That was a real 10 seconds at the fellowship hall- could
be at the club huh. The man was a married man about 50, but
men, women, 10 or 70 years old, people are the same I think.
OK the point was, three men decided not to sit but to
stand at the bar there with me, and they were talking
doctrine. Well, talking doctrine, and then doing that
“include” thing- where halfway through a sentence they look
you in the eye, like, “you’re following this right?” I
nodded and listened, and asked things. Well they were all
too ready to talk to me! Who hates attention? About an hour
later, these men are looking and sounding exactly like men
at the dance club. The way men giggle, or do little arm
shoving and stuff, like “hey look at me, I’m the kewl one!”
I had to rinse out the coffee pot, which is one of those
tall aluminum things, holds a couple gallons actually. I
excuse myself, and clutched it to me and took it into the
little kitchen.
I’m washing it out, and I’m a little wet on the front of
my dress, from the condensation of the aluminum pot. I wipe
it a little, and I realize, I have worn the wrong bra! I
wore a tan, sheer half-cup with the full straps- the straps
way out by my shoulders. It has a little edge of lace, and
it really is comfy. I can’t even feel it really. The dress
was a light yellow nylon “fake silk” with a normal neckline,
knee length hem, no pleats or gathers. It’s either very
peasant-like, or understated elegant, whatever.
Right above me and a little in front, were these
floodlights in the ceiling. They felt great cuz they were
warm and I spent most of the night standing there, or
picking up cups and stuff off the tables. Well standing
there in the kitchen I was aware that my nipples were almost
completely visible. OK, not completely but men have x-ray
vision, and it didn’t take much imagination. I carried the
coffee pot back. I hoped a few seconds of the floodlights
would dry the dress off.
The men were all talking about the point I brought up.
And they were generally agreeing with me, though I never
really hit the point hard. It felt really good to have been
right and yet not made a huge deal about it. We all started
talking again, and even telling jokes, it was a great
feeling, till I looked down during a lull in the talking.
The floodlights on my yellow silk dress made the tan
color of the bra come through. I looked up at one of the
men, and he was totally on my chest. I watched his eyes, his
jaw. His eyes roamed from my breasts, to my neck, to my
mouth, to my eyes, then my hair, then down my shoulder and
back, and since I was behind the bar, that was as far as he
could see, so his eyes went back to his coffee cup, and
through it to my chest and tummy again. All three of them
were talking, but their eyes were all doing the same thing.
TEST- ladies try this- if men are all talking, listen to
what they're saying, ok? Then roll your shoulders back a
little and take a deep breath, quietly and not too
demonstratively. Lean in a little when you do. If the
conversation stops, or they repeat what they were saying,
their talking is just a cover, they’re really all about you.
I was looking at their eyes, all interested in my
shoulders and my breathing. Normally I would so freak and
like run or at least get my jacket. But that was when I
realized two things important. Well, three.
4- If I had been wearing a potato bag or like a McCall’s
homemade “bag” dress, they wouldn’t have been standing
there, I would have been bored and just part of their
backdrop.
5- If I hadn’t worn that dress, that bra, my hair that
way, they wouldn’t have cared about my opinions and my
doctrine opinions never would have been agreed to! My looks
opened doors and unlocked their locked hearts that the truth
alone can’t open!
6- I wasn’t getting my coat; in fact I leaned in a couple
times like I couldn’t hear them! Once I knew they were at
the bar to drink in a big glass of ME, and that the more
they drank the more my opinions seemed to matter, it was
just like being in the men’s club, only less dancing and
smoke, and no lap dances.
I let them help me get my coat, and walk me to my car,
and I waited up all night to hear it from my parents, but
guess what? They didn’t notice, and after calling around,
there really was only a few that did, even Jen and Dave
didn’t notice, but maybe they’re kinda like immune? She
didn’t work at the club that night and couldn’t get a sitter
so she managed to talk Dave into coming! If it had been
really noticeable he would definitely have noticed, and he
didn’t. So I’m not a total bimbo slut, still have my dignity
and reputation, thank God, and my doctrine opinion is
getting passed around as gospel truth now in the bible
classes. What a kewl night!
REMEMBER TO MAKE A muslin pattern of myself!!