Thursday, May 19, 2011

The Tale of Stretch Mark Island

Morning Readers,

     Once upon a time, there was a magical place covered in sandy golden beaches, caressed delicately by crystal blue waters lapping its edges. Known to appear only between the bewitched months of June and August, this enchanted place could be summoned by only the most desperate of mothers.
      The story goes, a sad woman named Paige looked in the mirror one day, all frowns and pouts, her hands jiggling the tire around her waist. She shook it angrily and shouted at the stretched-out, little muffin in the mirror, "Listen muffin, I've had enough of you. It's only t-minus one week until the pool lets me in, and you're truly unsightly. Because of you, I must buy a body-encasing garment with which to hide you. If only there were a place where I could wear a two-piece swimsuit without ridicule."

     To her surprise, the muffin scrunched up its face and said, "If you do the magic dance and spin around three times, you'll be transported to a wondrous place where I can run free...so do the magic dance."
     Executing something resembling the Hokey Pokey crossed with the Macarena, Paige closed her eyes and spun around. Upon opening her eyes, she couldn't believe what she saw. Spanning the distance of a marathon she'd never, ever run, a beautiful beach lay before her, teeming with other mothers, their muffin tops proudly jiggling in the wind.
 
     "What is this place?", she wondered aloud. 

     "Why, you've reached Stretch Mark Island."
 
     Turning to find out what sensuous and manly voice had spoken, Paige found herself face to face with John Stamos. "Uncle Jes...I mean John Stamos..what are you doing here?"
 
     "You're so sweet, Mrs. Kellerman. I bar tend here. Myself, Orlando Bloom and Josh Hartnett all take turns making you lovely ladies margaritas. Or, in your case, ice cold Gin and Tonics."

     Paige laughed a laugh that sounded like angels singing. "That's so thoughtful of you. So tell me more about this place, John Stamos."

     "Here, you can wear whatever you wish and no one will judge you. Lay out, tan those baby war badges, and converse all day about whatever you wish. Running, dipping and diving are all encouraged. Sand volleyball starts at 3:00."

     She knit her scraggly brows. "What about all the other women? The ones with the "nice" stomachs, perfect hair and sporty visors?"

     "Oh them. They're on the other island."

     "What other island?"

     "Sensitivity Training Island"

     "Good call, John Stamos."

     And when Paige pulled herself back into reality, she got up, wrapped herself in measuring tape, coffee and tears, and finally ordered the one-piece swimsuit she'd been avoiding.

Until Next Time Readers!