I kissed my husband good bye as he left the hotel lobby to attend his two day lecture. I looked at my watch and had about an hour before the guide came to meet me for my half day tour of this beautiful, eastern European city.
"Why do the showers always work differently, in hotel rooms?" I thought, as I tried to make the water come out. Suddenly a stream of cold water shot from a hidden spout directly into my vaginal area. I jumped, but the icy wetness had already shocked my senses. Finally I managed to make it work and quickly showered.
I dried myself and applied sunscreen to my body. My skin was very smooth and always has been, especially my face. It easily took 15 years off my looks and instead of people thinking I was the 58 years that I really was many thought I could pass for 45.
Probably the daily workouts, which have kept my buttocks tight, my tummy flat and my breasts firm added to the deception. And, of course the silicone implants, which took me to a firm D cup with a 91 cm (36 inch) circumference, still make many men and some women, and stare.
I quickly dressed in a white blouse and jeans and after checking out the mirror hurried downstairs to meet my guide in the lobby. I have been in Muslim countries before, but was still a little shocked when a woman, dressed in a hijab (head scarf) approached me. "You must be Mrs. Douglas?" she asked, in broken, but perfectly annunciated English.
I acknowledged and she introduced herself as Aatifa, my local guide. To my surprise we hit it off well. She was extremely knowledgeable and very friendly. I enjoyed her sense of humour and the way she explained things.
She was only 46 and as most people seem to do, refused to believe that I was more than 50. Although she was the mother of three children she seemed to have kept herself in shape. She talked about her family and her husband. Her opinion of him was the same as most women, married for 20+ years. It was an arranged marriage and although he never abused her there was certainly no love lost in the relationship.
We laughed as we chatted and at one point I asked her why so many women in her country walk arm in arm along the streets. She explained it was a custom and without warning she slipped her arm through mine and held me tight as we continued walking. "See," she said. "Now you are one of us."
"I don't think so," I replied, looking at her hijab.
"Ahh," she said. "We can fix that." She paused a moment and looked at her watch. "Our tour is nearly over and I have to go home to feed my youngest child, but you may join me and have some lunch and you can try on a hijab."
I smiled, at first prepared to decline the offer but it seemed like it might be fun so I agreed. She explained that it was not far and we hopped on a city bus and in a matter of minutes we stood before a typical, white flat.
Inside was the home of a family of five. Toys were everywhere and kids were noisy. She introduced me to a girl of about 14. Her daughter and the babysitter. Her son of two and came running to his mother. Her other son was outside playing. She spoke to the daughter in the local language and a moment later she was gone.
"She will be back shortly to look after Ali, when we return to your hotel." I explained that it was not necessary for her to see me back, but she insisted. As she put it, "You are a guest in my country."
I sat on a couch and she on a chair and I was shocked when Ali, her two year old came up to her and she shamelessly lifted the bodice of her hijab to reveal her large, brown breast. She held it and Ali stepped up to suckle it. I dared not stare, but found I could not look anywhere else.
It has been a long time since I breastfed my sons and always in the privacy of a closed room. Sure, I have seen people in malls and such, breastfeeding, but always from a distance and always discreet. This was quite a shock as the child sucked heavily from his mother's milk source.
Her breast was extremely large and seemed even more so in contrast to her slender waste. She broke the silence. "You are hungry, my child," she said, at the same time removing the remainder of the garment and feeding him her other teat. I was now staring at both her large, naked breasts while her child hungrily sucked.
"This makes you uncomfortable?" she asked. I was somewhat stunned and I guess it showed. "I am sorry," she replied.
"No, no," I stuttered. "Not at all. I am not used to seeing this, that's all." I paused awkwardly and stupidly said, "You... you have beautiful breasts."
