Going Topless

I am thinking about going topless.  Although I have thought about it over the years, the desire I have now for the sensation that you get from shedding your anxieties and throwing caution to the wind can only be achieved by this one simple act.  I must admit I am a little nervous, but at my age, what the heck?  What do I have to lose?

To feel the cool breeze on my skin and let the sun embrace and caress me is a very tempting proposition, to say the least.  To be the one, who at that particular moment in time receives those envious side-glances from admiring folk, does more for one’s ego than anything else I can think of.

These first few warm days that promise summer is within our reach and the flurry of topless beauties that start parading around without abandon has got me to thinking.  I could easily fall into this trap and look pretty fine doing it.  I know I should have done this 30 years ago, but something held me back and I want to make up for lost time.  “Try it, you’ll like it”, the die-hard faction beckons.  I know it is now or never and “the thrill and chill” of the first time I turn on the ignition will be worth the wait.

What?  The ignition?  Yes, it’s true.  I have a need for speed and the feeling in my bones is screaming that a convertible is the way I should go.  The purr of the engine with the ragtop down conjures up images and dreams of my bygone eras and empowers my hidden ambitions to emerge and prosper.  Embarking on yet another mid-life crisis, my desires for this simple hunk of metal are stronger than I have encountered before.  I feel I must give in to this overwhelming yearning, if only for a brief, fleeting moment in time.

Perhaps it is the happy-go-lucky delight and the way the wind dances through your hair as you cruise the highway that is the undeniable craving I am feeling and which tugs at my very being and soul.  Or, the dazzling smile that could attract even the most obstinate bug yet accompanies every one of the drivers that I have seen that sit behind the wheel of their topless beauty as they happily putt about town.  Basically, I think, it boils down to a sense of freedom that can only be achieved properly when your top is down.

Oh, and did I mention a turn-on?  Nothing quite like riding around with your top down to feel desirous.  Just reflect on how many times you have pulled up next to a convertible, in the warmth of a summer’s eve, and imagined yourself sitting in this fine vehicle, next to your favorite love muffin, nestled in at the drive-in theater munching on popcorn (with a diet soda, of course) and whispering sweet nothings into each others’ ears (what was the movie again?).  It wouldn’t be long before the top would have to come up.

As I ponder what shoes (one should feel good all the way to their toes) will best complement my infatuation, fascination and passion for the one fashion accessory I hope to someday acquire,  I will raise a glass to my family’s health, well-being and redemption and say bottoms up to my soon to be top down.

Cynthia A. McClelland, curious observer of the obvious with interpretations of the oddities of daily life.  Mother, wife and lover of the furry, resides in the north Lake Tahoe area.

Cynthia A. McClelland © 2003-