The following is lifted from an email I sent to a friend who is having a hard time and said she was in need of some serious hugs.
My response came from a 'conversation' I had with my youngest daughter, The Hiss, in the car (where all deep and meaningful exchanges take place). My oldest daughter, Precious Princess, was also present to witness this tragic comment on our family's lack of feely-touchy moments and how this has had a lasting impact on The Hiss.
Looking in the rear-vision mirror I gauged PP's response. Imagine eye rolls and the slow disbelieving shake of the head.
This is the content of the email I sent in reply to my friend's hug request. Names have been changed to protect those who are pathetic and melodramatic:
OMG. Hugs. The Hiss was talking about hugs last night. She watched Justin Timberlake's doco and said the band members hugged each other before every gig (I reminded her that Madonna went through a similar ritual before each of her gigs - way before young Justin cottoned on). The Hiss, being The Hiss, added that she was "so jealous".
Of what? "I'd love to be in Justin's band because then I'd get hugs every night."
I could have throttled her. Is choking a type of hug? I suggested she join a band.
But Writer Girl, your case is different. You are not angling for sympathy because you missed out on a weekend with your cousins down the coast because your choice was to sail.
I am sending off a hug to you now.
Life without hugs.