The Replacement

Here's what's left for me!!!

  It's 10:45 in the morning.  My husband Joe has gone for the day and I ready myself for the 'daily cleansing' taking place after a vigorous hour of Zumba.
  It's been a while, but today Chip meets me in the shower.  It's guiltless, it's dirty, and it's all my husband's fault.  I wouldn't be here in the shower with Chip if Joe just learned to be more courteous and replace the freakin soap once it's turned transparent!
  There's no bigger pet peeve I have than being inconsiderate.  My husband doesn't process this action as thoughtless and crude.   
   Robe off, into the shower, cold wet body, soaked hair, all hopes of a relaxing shower gone when I am greeted by a cheap sliver of soap.  The bend in the once frothy bar of Dove has me speculating it's previous whereabouts (it may have entered a fleshy crevice and was lucky to escape at all).  I guess I should be thankful that there are no hairs on it.
  The bother is not even about getting in the shower to find an ass chip.   It's the nuisance of feeling ten pounds heavier when wet.  The pain in each body tremor, my skin with its resounding jiggle on the cold (and now wet) tiled floor.  My droopy reflection cast, strait ahead against the fully mirrored wall of the bathroom.  All of this has snowballed from a teeny soap chip. 
  I once knew a guy named Chip.  He danced at my friend's sister's bachelorette party.  The other single girls  that were there were about four years younger than us.  Chip was muscular, beautifully tanned and all smiles.  With a motion towards each of the guests, he was met by an "eek!" or an "ert get away!"  from each silly girl.   Confused and teetering on insecure, he walked apprehensively towards me.  "You've gotta help me out here.  I PROMISE, I won't touch you.  I'm just gonna dance."
  There was dancing, girls were gasping.....and then the music blasting.   My one memory of that night is a photo of the two of us.  My hair makes me a gorgeous lioness.  I wore it dark in those days with honey colored highlights trickling a splash of color. My light brown eyes twinkled as my yellowish teeth and semi-crooked smile was beaming.  To be twenty-four and coming to the aid of a stripper in distress.
  I am now thirty-something, water logged and opening up what has in moments become a damp box of Dove White.  I think of the man in the photo....then I think of the man I married, and what a pain in the ass he can be.
  Once I've finished my shower, I take back my new soap as I step out of the steamy stall.  I put it away, throwing it back into its soggy box.  I think about the effort I am making, both to annoy Joe and prove a point that he will never learn from.
   It's not entirely his fault,  Joe is a husband, not a Chip. 
  As I dry myself off, I  smirk, wondering what memories will come to Joe when he finds his foamy chip unmoved and waiting for his touch.