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Almost break time for me. Used to go to a spa for a few days before the actual holiday starts. Recall there’s always the group of black young women who see you as a challenge. I’m black myself.
They sit next to the pool with their towel gowns open to show off their ridiculously expensive bathing suits. The finger nails like eagles’ claws clutching dainty champagne glasses. I always wonder how they clean up after ablutions with those nails.
And you feel the stares directed at you. You can’t see their eyes because they’re wearing designer sunglasses. Next to the indoor pool. And I’m laying there, my old Woolies bathing suit completely covered by my gown and reading a book.
Yes. Reading a book. So they start talking in the vernacular. About me. For some reason they think I don’t understand them. Might be because my complexion matches that of Pearl Thusi. They laugh and poke fun at me. All in the vernacular. And then I join in the fun.
In the vernacular of course. They’re stunned into silence. I saunter over to them to chat. And I ask them what they do for a living. I tell them what I do for a living. That shuts them up. End of fun.
