Panty Karma

Angels come in the strangest forms. Yesterday, mine came in the form of Coco, a Mary Kay saleswoman. Who knew God's army of Earth-bound saviors are posted in the Newark airport?

Coco glows, her milk chocolate skin dusted with a golden sheen. Blue eyes twinkling, her amazingly white teeth dazzle the dusky terminal as she looks up at me from her conversation. Her energy radiates as she chats with fellow passengers waiting to board Continental flight 1462.

At first glance, I thought she worked here; her boarding pass in hand, I realize she is just one of those people that "knows" everyone.

As Coco saunters toward me, more of her skin showing than the crochet top covered, her ample bosom bounced as she bent over to whisper to me, "Hello beautiful! Do you mind if I plug in for a bit?" Her Jamaican accent, full of an ancient and reassuring wisdom put me at an unreasonable ease. I should have clutched my purse. However, since my divorce, I trust strangers implicitly.

Coco askes if I am headed to the Mary Kay conference in Orlando. I giggle out loud--I can see why she's taken this leap--I'm wearing pink stilettos. Coco coos at my pink laptop bag and we chatted about the possibility of our plane coming in the next hour. She asked me what I do--which is always hard to explain. So I simplified, "I'm a writer. But don't get excited, you've never heard of me."

"Girl, you are so blessed!" She touched me on the shoulder and I felt an energy surge go down my spine. "Look at you, so beautiful!" This woman must be a crazy! I smile and tell her to take my seat while her phone charges. I make my way to the ladies room.

Staring in the mirror, I glare at the dark circles, and the once golden locks I took for granted all my life had turned to a shriveled mess since an emergency gallbladder surgery. The anesthesia had dried out my last great attribute transforming my flowing mane into a mess I likened to burnt orange bacon. Brittle to the touch.

A single tear rolled down my cheek. Not only were my ab muscles having a harder-than-ever time bouncing back, my hair was falling off my head, and I look exhausted.

Who could ever love this frazzled mess?

I splash my face with cold water, and try to gently move my crispy bangs into a decent arrangement. Trying to get myself together, I tuck my crisp white blouse into my big control panel undies. Noticing a strain across my buttons, I rearrange my Double-D's in the giant white utilitarian bra to give my pinpoint a little relief. "Compose!" I say to myself asI snap the collar up and over the jacket. "You have an amazing life! You cannot feel sorry for yourself!!" I paint on a smile with my lip gloss.

Reminding myself of my great job, cute car, great friends, wonderful family, I chant aloud, "Having a mate does not constitute completness as a woman." Eventually, my inner child whelps from the ache deep withing my chest "But I am soooooo very lonely."

Distracted by the inner turmoil, I head back, hoping we can board sooner rather than later. Half-way to my destination, Coco popps from the center of a crowd of folks standing by the gate desk. "Beauty! Come meet my friends!" she introduces me to a hand full of our fellow passengers. "Girl, the plane is broken. We are blessed they found it now! Dontcha' think? Just another hour and we'll be on our way."

Another hour? I'd already been here three, and my control-tip skivvies were biting into my cheeks. The Waldorf Astoria had been fabulous, but I just wanted to be in my own bed. Feeling a little defeated, but putting my best face forward, I smiled and agreed we were lucky the problem had been spotted before we were airborne.

"Is your boyfriend waiting for you in Orlando?" Uggggg I hate admitting I am unlovable. "No, nobody is waiting for me."

Her perfectly painted-on eyebrow raised. Her hand went on her hip and an incredibly long finger and nail pointed to me. "Girl, somebody is waiting for you. You just don't know it yet! But let me tell you something, you got to show the beauty inside and out. Now you walk over to that wall." Something told me to just follow her instructions, I hear her giggle about six paces into my journey.

"You have got to OWN it! Now come back and own it!" Own what? I didn't even get the words out. "Own the space, your beauty, that hair, it's the attitude. You look like you are trying to pass through somebody's space without disturbing nuthin'. How's your man going to find you if you is sneaking through life?"

Putting her hands on my hips she is about to show me how to move and she laughes, "What have you got on under here?" Her hands went up to the back of my jacket. A 6th grade flashback--she snapped my bra. "Damn, no wonder you ain't feeling it. How can you move in those? Girl, you have got to take care of you. No man is going to find you sexy until you find you sexy. My grandmama don't wear drawers that big! How you gonna feel sexy like dat?"

A hot flush rushes over my face, partially because I had just been felt up by a strange woman in the airport, and partially because I am wearing giant granny panties. Could my dateless weekends be because of bad panty karma? "If you buy them, he will come!" my whelping inner child whispers. I laugh out loud and remember my drawer full of sexy undies that go untouched, waiting for a faceless lover to excite. "My darlin' before somebody can love you, you got ta love yourself." Her azure eyes twinkle. "I know, it's my business to bring about the beauty." I'm giggling, and wondering just when I started wearing giant underpants. I wasn't all that long ago I felt so good about myself and my body. But a little rejection from a man can do terrible things to a gal. Especially when it's accompanied by your 40th birthday. And surgery leaving scars on your tummy. The tri-fecta of self-esteem destruction.

I look up to see the beautiful Coco, her eyes pleading for me to give myself a break. Her radiance was inspiration, the raised eyebrow silently said, 'change your underwear, change your life.' The next thing I know, she's hugging me and I realize I hadn't been hugged in a long time. It feel realy good. And I feel a whole, heck of a lot better. "You are an angel!" I say. Her eyes flash a thousand sentiments. Her broad smile breaks out, "I know darlin'! I know." as she pats me on the back.

Our flight is called and I turn to grab my bags. When I turn back to ask her what seat she is assigned, she is gone. I am alone. Again.

However, now I don't feel so terribly lonely. I discretely tug the bloomers to a less binding position. Stand up straight, smile and OWN the jetway as I strut to the plane; the first leg of my new journey.