“Belle of the Ball” – by Debbie Ambrous

My feathery blue fascinator hat atop my Paris hatbox (Look closely for the Eiffel Tower under my hat). My son-in-law Mark told my daughter Jessica to buy the hatbox for me. Thanks to both of you! Camilla couldn’t have any better.

I’ve always relished being the Belle of the Ball!  Now before you choke in laughter at the idea of me being Belle of the Ball and spew coffee from your mouth and nose, let me explain.  Being Belle of the Ball isn’t all about the most beautiful, curvy, vivacious and perfect knockout lady at the party.  In fact, the one with the top qualifications may not have the title since it involves a state of mind.  The lady who walks into the room with confidence, style and flair, no matter the age, may be the Belle of the Ball since the title can be worn by more than one.

Jim and I went to a beautiful afternoon wedding.  I wore a sapphire blue velvet top with a matching skirt, and I decided to boldly wear my fascinator hat with its bright blue feathers.  If the less-than-attractive Camilla, Prince Charles’ wife, can wear one with poise, why can’t I?  I don’t have her wealth, title or acclaim, but it didn’t stop me.  I grabbed the gold ring and swung into the party as Belle of the Ball.

The buxom, beautiful bride in her radiant gown by her handsome husband was first and foremost the Belle of the Ball.  Love glowed from every pore of her body, and she floated through the room like a princess following a dream coming true.  It was truly her day.

A friend from long ago was another Belle.  As a young woman in the 70’s she elegantly wore the highest beehive hair-do.  Back then we had tea with her in her mobile home that could have been a Provencal gypsy caravan, although at the time I didn’t even know about such.  Zebra and leopard patterned material along with crimson red and dazzling gold accents covered the long circular sofa in her living room.  Cher Bono could have entered singing “Gypsies, tramps and thieves…” I was in awe of her style.  She is still beautiful, a gorgeous blonde with an essence of mystery and panache.  A Bella Belle!

Janet, a natural beauty with extra long silver hair that she has kept since she was a young girl appeared gracefully.  Attractive with very little makeup, she speaks softly with loving care for others.  Still, I must say she is the silver fox!  Madame Janet, Belle of the Ball!

My friend Quail was the gorgeous lady with the curly silver hair, my sister in all ways except sharing the same parents.  With her flawless complexion, beautiful white teeth and perfectly styled hair she could be a model any day.  But it seems that the demand for models of a certain age is going to women on commercials for men’s products.  You know the cute ladies who hop around on one leg while fastening a shoe, or get caught singing rock n’ roll.  A silver-haired man appears, and the kitchen erupts with water and they float off in separate bathtubs holding hands.  Quail bailed out on a raft.  She was Belle of the Ball, and she will kill me when she reads this.

I was drawn to a charming, blonde-haired lady who could have been my aunt, but she is no relation.  Still, I would like to claim her because she was the truest Belle of the Ball.  Her name was Bette, and she wore a fur-trimmed jacket and carried a designer clutch handbag. I offered my card so she could read my blog, but she didn’t have Internet.  Bette lives in the country and enjoys quilting.  I’m glad I met her.

A tiny girl with fur-trimmed boots played with balloons, and I tried to snap a picture of her.  She moved too fast: I needed roller skates.  Jim said someone would film me, and the next day’s headlines would be: “Camilla Crashes Party on Roller Skates.”

I was over the top at this party since I could hear much better.  I have two new expensive hearing aids.  I’ve dealt with hearing loss for over 20 years, and this is the first time I’ve had quality hearing.  Especially in a large group I couldn’t hear.  I would smile and nod or look sympathetic if the tone seemed to go in that direction.  I didn’t always get it right.  This is a true story.

A young lady said, “I have a cat.”   I heard, “I have a cow.”  I said, “Do you milk her?”  She looked at me in shock and disgust!  We straightened it out, but what about the times I didn’t even know about?

Lady says, “My poodle was run over by a car.”  I smile and almost burst into laughter because I heard “I kanoodled in a car.”  You would laugh too.  Don’t say you wouldn’t if you heard a little old lady say this!

Now I can hear!  I can wear a fascinator! I can share the floor with my lady friends who are beautiful, and who knows I may line-dance next time. Sweet!

My book “A French Opportunity” is now available on KINDLE at worldwide Amazon websites.  In Chapter 4 “Why Didn’t I Pack a Big Floppy Hat?” a wedding party emerges from a church: ”

“I wasn’t their photographer, and I didn’t feel comfortable aiming my camera at the private group, although I was dying to capture the ladies in their extravagant chapeaus and the children just being children.  Instead, I sat on a park bench and enjoyed people watching, basking in another day ending in a golden glow.

Huge, white hydrangeas in a nearby flower shop were so perfect that I wanted to buy them.  I wanted to wear a big hat with a feathery plume and a soft, flowery dress, and walk to buy bread at the corner bakery.  Maybe I would need a French poodle to complete my ensemble.”  Read more on your Kindle or a book that you can add to your bookshelf.  Sweet!


A French Opportunity

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