Them Bitches Talkin’ ’bout Us?

After preschool one day last week, I took our littlest two kids to a park before we went home. It’s a great little playground with lots of green space around the edges, perfect for kids to kick a ball or fly a kite.

I parked the car and as we walked toward the playground, I noticed a couple of women sitting on a blanket having what I thought was just a wholesome picnic. As we walked closer, I saw that they were laying on a blue plastic tarp. They had an Igloo cooler full of Budweiser and a bucket of KFC. They had a small radio tuned into a local country station. One of the women was just sitting up with her legs crossed. The other woman, however, was laying on her stomach with the bikini top she was wearing undone so as to avoid tan lines. This scene would not be out of the ordinary at a beach. At a park surrounded by tennis courts and sculpted box woods, though, it was weird and painfully out of place.

I tried not to make eye contact because I wasn’t sure I could hide my bewilderment. I just focused my eyes on Norah and was grateful that she walked the opposite way of the ladies. Instead she walked in the direction of two other Moms who were sitting on a bench on the opposite side of the playground as the picnic ladies. These Moms were dressed to the nines and their shoes matched their purses. They were giggling about the other ladies while their kids played on the slide. The two polar opposite sets of ladies were having a little bit of a staring contest. I didn’t engage the bench sitters either for fear that I would look like I’d chosen sides in this game of stank eye they had going with each other. I just shadowed my kids and kept my head down.

The picnic ladies had a huge, red ball sitting next to them on the ground. I knew it was a matter of time before Ronan ran toward it. And he did.

Me: “Oh, buddy, that’s not your ball…”

Half-naked picnic lady: “That’s fine-let ’em play with it. My boy ain’t usin’ it right now.”

Me: “That’s nice-thank you!”

Half-naked picnic lady: “They’s some cute kids you got there.”

Me: “Thank you- they’re great. Y’all look like you’ve got the right idea…it’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?”

Half-naked picnic lady: “Sho is. I love this time of year. I’m workin’ on my tan already.”

Me: “I see that!”

Half-naked picnic lady: “This bother you? Me havin’ my top undid?”

Me: “Not at all…I mean, you’re not naked or anything.”

Half-naked picnic lady: “Cause I think it’s botherin’ some other people around here. Let me ask you: them bitches over there talkin’ ’bout us?”

Me: “Uh, no, not that I heard…”

Half-naked picnic lady: “Cause it looks to me like they don’t like the way we enjoyin’ our outside time. They can’t seem to stop starin’.”

Me: “Oh, I don’t know…I haven’t noticed.”

Half-naked picnic lady (staring back at the bench ladies): “I’m pretty sure I went to high school with that blonde one. I screwed her boyfriend a couple times and if she don’t stop lookin’ over here, Imma let ‘er know all about it.”

About ten seconds later, the bench ladies yelled to their kids that it was time to go. I’d never been so disappointed in all my life.

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