I said-- well, I didn't say anything, just *nod-pouted*
~Oh, after Mass last Sunday, I lounged in the pew while waiting for the Communion to finish. I normally always sit straight, but that particular evening, I was stuffed with ginatan, a banana and jackfruit dessert with coconut cream and brown sugar, among other decadent trimmings.
Josh and I always attended the last Mass, so we had the pew to ourselves. It was okay to stretch my legs, cross my ankles, and lean on the arm I had propped two feet from me on the seat. Across the aisle, the girl who didn't have my subtlety at looking at the other churchgoers' attire and shoes seemed to be paying me more attention than was warranted by my non-special getup.
And then she whispered to her mom.
Seconds later, the mom also looked at me, though with more finesse, on the pretense of shrugging her wrap higher up her shoulders.
I saw all this from the corner of my eye, so I just dismissed it. Maybe they weren't even looking at ME.
And then the priest rose, we all rose, and we were blessed in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen. Thanks be to God... *applause*
That's God you're applauding, so you do it with energy and high in the air.
That's when I felt the air on my tummy.
Apparently, the two lowest snaps of my blouse had come undone-- maybe from my bloat and my slouch.
At least, the mystery of 'the looks' was cleared up.
And my navel was clean.
~And while I'm recalling things, let me go back further and let December 21st of last year be on the record:
J called J "Mr. Good Son"
And J called J "Ms. Bright Side".