Tastefully distasteful?

Salt of the earth –

Although I loved to splash and ride the ocean waves as a child each summer at Hither Hills State Park and years later drive my two daughters each summer to Ocean City beaches, bury them in the sand, I never liked the salty taste of breakers.

I like the taste of carrots cooked lightly, naturally sweet, no salt please, nor on the fresh ears of corn on the cob, often eaten raw. Yet, I love the slice of garlic, white or red pizza, my usual lunch from Pizza Aroma. I’m of the mild, not bland; that raw wild taste of vegetables pleasing my taste buds.

But when it comes to clothes: I can wear a bright yellow T-shirt emblazoned with large letters, “I AM BOLD.” The clearance aisle at TJMax flashes bright yellow pants and a deep-necked rosy, red blouse with yellow flecks like a goldfinch flying by. I must buy it …to dress to the maxx!

Just the other day, I try on a vintage pair of Kelly-green corduroys that fit snuggly to my smallish waist, unusual, at Mimi’s Attic – a consignment shop where I have accrued store credit – but it is not to my credit that I add clothes to my closet when I am trying to lessen my attachments…lighten my load. To my credit, I take away a tan pair of pants I rarely wear to the Thrifty Shopper, recycling clothes.

But my taste in men barely changes. Broad shoulders please, providing a broad chest to lay my girlish 77-year-old head on, usually enveloped in muscular biceps and forearms. The height can vary, and the eye color although I prefer taller than my 5’9” stature and the intensity of brown eyes, opposite of my grayish blue.

My variety of LOVEs is always compared to the father who loved me without conditions – not being his biologically, a child of rape.

That being distasteful to everyone else, while I am happy, so happy to be here. Present.