April 26th, 1990
Just rolled in from a really fun evening over at the Wyndham hotel, where, judging by my scribble, it appears I may have had a tad too much rum in the (how many?) delicious punch cocktails, served complete with umbrellas!
Julia rang first thing to ask if I wanted to meet her at the pool.
“I don’t usually do the pool thing.”
“Eh, to be perfectly honest I hate how fat I am.”
“FAT?” She screamed. “Are you kidding? You’re not FAT!”
“Ouch! Thanks for bursting my eardrum!”
“If I hear you using the F word again, I will smack you.”
I laughed. “Please don’t do that.”
“Stop being ridiculous. Get your cozzie on and meet me at the pool.”
Anytime the majority of a Boeing 747 crew show up, it gets not only busy but extremely loud, especially in this case, as the day progressed and the cocktails began to take effect!
Several of the girls (the good variety, who drank only water) tried coaxing Julia and I into going to aerobics with them but there was no way I wanted to leave the comfort of my lounge chair to be screamed at by some obnoxious aerobics instructor.
Instead of jumping around like a lunatic, I came back to my room and took a lengthy nap before meeting up with Julia again, which is when we made our way to the Wyndham to meet the fitties.
No wonder those girls are so thin, they barely ate anything tonight. I wish I could be more like that but my love of food surpasses any such possibility and to be honest, I don’t want to be the girl who moves lettuce around her plate looking utterly miserable.
Having said that, I’d kill to wear a bikini with the kind of confidence the fitties displayed around the pool today.