Passing Wind In Public Never Ends Well!


Trent proposed to me in front of St Mary’s Chapel on the beach in Port Douglas – and a year later he married me there. For those who attended or have experienced this place you will know how beautiful it is. We have been here many many times over the years, it’s our go-to destination for holidays and dirty long weekends away.

Trent is always in charge of the accommodation. Nothing with cane furniture. Nothing without a view or a deck (he also likes Big Decks) and most importantly NOTHING WITHOUT A SPA. I’m not talking a gamin Jacuzzi – I’m talking about your own spa on the balcony (where there is a view)

I have no idea why.

Usual practice when we arrive is for Trent to barge open the door, throw the cases on the bed, turn the taps on in the spa full blast, empty an ENTIRE container of shampoo into it, strip down and bomb dive in all the while yelling at me to “hurry up”!!! I usually take my time, unpack, get some cold beverages and lower myself delicately into the tub. I make Trent look away. I’m sorry but there is NO POSSIBLE way of entering a spa and STILL LOOKING GOOD. I have large ham like thighs AND I’m short. I don’t just slide in gracefully. I usually hitch one leg up, feel around cautiously for the bottom and the rest of my cellulite orange peel body will follow – most of the time I slip (due to the entire container of shampoo emptied into it) and end up completely submerged with pander eyes

I love the people watching. All the old ladies in their bright resort wear with lots of gold jewelry, sharp painted nails, big hats and crocodile skin. Then you have the ‘Traveler’, always in reefs, with cargo pants, backpack, sturdy hat and maybe a walking stick, like those ones you see when people climb mountains. They aren’t here to sunbathe or eat out, these people like to explore and they PACK their lunches. Sometimes they have real big cameras hanging around their necks.

I booked an acupuncture massage. A lovely tiny Chinese woman (I can never tell their age, she looked about 14 but was probably 40) she coaxed me inside, and next thing you know I was face down on the massage bed with a fan blowing up my dress (it’s a dry massage) Then she touched me, holy mackerel! She was poking me and pushing this stick into my foot and pressing here and pressing there and she was sitting ON THE BED with me doing all this stuff and it felt amazing. She whispered to me the whole time, making comments about the ‘tension in my neck’, my “strong calves like a man” how I was a “big sturdy woman” all the while this loud orchestra music was playing in the background while she worked on me.

I let off a pop tart by accident, and in my defense it wasn’t my fault. She was pushing on my bottom and I was VERY RELAXED, I sort of panicked and sat up to apologize and she pushed me back down very firmly and said “it’s OK, you just make stink, we carry on now”

I gave her a massive tip.

Trent demanded a massage himself; he came back sore and limping. He had a very large robust male instead. Very enjoyable.

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