Mom Overboard
To the extent the Washington, D.C. area has a best season, many would claim that it's spring -- particularly late spring. As late May arrives, temperatures haven't generally reached their scorching mid-summer heights and the tell-tale humidity that practically hangs over the nation's capital from June until late September is still quite tolerable. Serendipitously for Americans living in the region, the last Monday in May, and the two weekend days before it, also mark the Memorial Day weekend holiday -- the unofficial beginning of summer.
In most towns across America, that weekend is heralded with much fanfare to honor those who have served their country. Parades, barbecues and the like provide revelers with all manner of opportunity to celebrate their nation's veterans. In Davidson, Maryland, a small affluent suburb equidistant between Washington, D.C. and Baltimore, the Memorial Day weekend also marks the official opening of many a private community pool including the one in the toniest of Davidson's gated enclaves where Mrs. Danielle Marie Parnell resides with her family.
Memorial Day weekend holds a special place in the heart of the 44 year-old mother of three, a stunning beauty by any measure with a fantastically fit body and a face that combines the best of Kerry Russel and Miranda Kerr. But Danielle's affection for the holiday is not a function of any particular love of veterans or of Americana generally -- although both are issues about which she cares deeply. Rather, Mrs. Parnell's annual desire for the weekend's arrival -- particularly the opening of her private community's spectacular pool -- stems from her love of, to her, the most important, most beautiful, most intelligent and sophisticated person on the planet, namely herself.
Why -- because each annual reopening of the community pool affords the stunning diva the opportunity to assert her dominance not only over the neighborhood's male population -- who to a man and boy lust after the self-satisfied beauty but -- more satisfyingly to her -- over the wives, mothers and girlfriends of that population. In her mind, simply teasing the pathetic men and boys of her community is easy enough; all she needs to do to accomplish that is appear. But although the preening diva derives no small amount of satisfaction from leaving the pathetic males of her community drooling, what really brings her joy is to loudly, publicly and derisively chide them when she "catches" them in the act of ogling her irresistible form.
"Eyes up here, Mr. Wray," she'll harp.
"Why don't you take a picture Dr. Miras, it will last longer," she'll mock.
"Your wife is right there Mr. Silver," she'll chide.
"What would your mother think Calum," she'll implore.
But as much as she revels in the feeling she gets from demeaning these
losers
-- Danielle Parnell's real satisfaction came from watching their wives, daughters and girlfriends squirm as she implies -- or sometimes even expresses -- how if those women would do a better job tending to themselves their men wouldn't need to obsessively follow her around. The hags, she would smile to herself. Your men all want to
see
me and you cows all want to
be
me.
Mrs. Parnell's tried-and-true formula for making her Memorial Day poolside debut is as simple as it is calculated. Each May, about two weeks before the community pool opens and whether her children are off from school or not, she plans a family vacation to an exotic beach destination to work on her always fantastic tan. Around that same time, in addition to her already high-octane fitness regime, she dials up her exercise quotient and assiduously focuses on adhering to an even healthier diet than usual. Finally, she shops each year for a new, sexy but elegant poolside ensemble consisting each time of a pair of high, often wedge, heels, a sophisticated bikini to show off her tan, fit, physique, a stylish cover up to help build the anticipation of her pathetic audience, a pair fashionable new sunglasses through which to watch her prey and a spectacular sun hat.
After that, it's all about the timing. Danielle dispatches her now college age son Will to reserve her a seat by the pool -- not too close to the water but where everyone can see her -- and then, once she is confident that most of the "rabble" had otherwise assembled for the day, she struts through the clubhouse, onto the pool deck and ultimately to her seat, head held high and hips swaying confidently. With each step she basks in the lust she knows is being directed her way from each man and boy present as well as in the daggers being thrown by their wives, mothers and girlfriends. Of course, the
coup de grâce
for the preening diva's ego comes from her slowly peeling out of whatever elegant cover-up she is wearing to reveal her spectacular bikini covered body to the unworthy gazes of her neighborhood's simpletons.
And so it was on the Saturday before the most recent Memorial Day, with the sun shining brightly, no hint of humidity and a temperature in the low 80s, that Danielle Marie Parnell began her veritable catwalk across the pool deck to her waiting chair. Wearing a pair of suede, navy blue and gold, 4.5" open-toe, platform wedge-heels from Prada, a gauzy Ralph Lauren white wrap-around skirt cover-up, with an accompanying navy, linen, military-style bolero jacket, mirrored aviator sunglasses and a highly stylized, black-brimmed, white captain's hat, the toned and tanned Mrs. Parnell was every inch a red-blooded American man's patriotic wet dream -- and she knew it.
Carrying a Louis Vuitton beach bag in one hand and a book in the other the suburban sexpot outwardly feigned indifference to the lustful stares coming her way that internally fed her insatiable ego. She smiled as she assessed the pathetic state of the neighborhood's other women -- the pale, unfit losers.
"Hey there Danielle," came a soft but friendly southern accented voice interrupting Mrs. Parnell's musings.
The source of that voice, one Mrs. Katherine Elizabeth Wray, was one of Davidson's nicest women and no slouch in the fitness department herself. Although she was happily married with two boys and a girl of her own, she paid almost as much attention to the beauty before her as did Davidson's men, a fact that was not lost on Danielle.
"Why hello there Katherine," Mrs. Parnell responded disdainfully with a false smile on her otherwise gorgeous face, "now don't forget to put on the SPF 100 dear... you wouldn't want to burn that lovely pale skin of yours."
"And Emily," the preening uber-MILF without even breaking stride offered to Mrs. Emily Duncan, another neighbor who was lying out next to Mrs. Wray, "I think it may be time to get back into the gym... don't
you
."
As the two insulted suburban moms silently stewed, and the other women who had witnessed their dressing down bristled at the arrogance of Little Miss Perfect, Danielle continued her proud promenade across the pool deck until, nearly to her waiting chair upon which her smug son Will had just laid out her towel, she spied her daughter Anna and her friends sitting together nearby.
At 5' 6", the 18-year-old Anna Parnell -- a very pretty young girl -- was already a good deal taller than her mother (a fact that annoyed Danielle to no small extent). Indeed, among the many "house" rules set down by Mrs. Parnell was that Anna was too young for high heels. Of course, Danielle herself would never be seen without them and, at least for now, her ordinarily towering shoes continued to give her a slight height advantage over her oldest daughter.
As with many kids her age, Anna was beginning to test the limits of parental authority and, on this day, had decided to wear a two piece bathing suit to the Memorial Day pool opening in large part to catch the eye of Aaron Tabash, the 20-year old life guard and former Gonzaga High School star athlete who had just returned from his freshman year at Harvard where he had successfully rowed for the elite institution's national championship crew team.
"Excuse me
missy
," rang out the shrill sound of an annoyed Danielle Parnell as she approached the gaggle of girls that included her daughter, "but what exactly do you think you're wearing."
