The Tummy Tap…

It was the tummy tap heard round the world. Former President Bush, navigating the row at Jimmy Carter’s funeral, gave Barack Obama a tap on the tummy, bro style. Obama was dishing throughout the ceremony with Donald Trump. The boys were laughing, chatting amiably, unfazed by Kamala’s lack of greeting or handshake.

It’s akin to guys in a bar fight who are pals after tossing each other about. I know ‘cuz I’ve seen so many bar fights, right? Or when they argue at work and meet for beers after hours. What is it about guys? Is it short memory or do they truly not care about insults, grudges, and revenge?

As for me and my Dolls–mess with us, or our kin, and we take that shit to the grave. This mom can name every child that insulted one of mine, left them out or treated them badly. Every once in a while I run into one of them in Arcadia and I am decidedly cool. I ask after their children and parents only to provide the scoop later. I wish them little more than a lifetime of guilt over how badly they treated one of the Chickens.

There would be no tummy taps at a funeral. It’s a girl thing. You saw the proof. Kamala breezed in. She shook nary a hand—not a Bill or Hillary or a Bush. She even jockeyed her husband to the other side when she saw her seat was near the man who dealt her a crushing blow. Hillary spoke to no one, knitting her mouth into a frown.

Donald was on the opposite end so she didn’t have to talk to him. Bill did appear to check out Kamala’s backside, but Hill should be used to that by now. All we can guess is that seats were occupied by those who had disrespected her in the past. I get it girl. Women have long memories. We remember word for word. You need only ask and we can recite it back to you.

Not in a million years, in another dimension, will you spy Hillary gal-palling it up with Melania. Not even trying. Nope. Not happening. The chicks are not guys. If we tussle, you are dead to us.

Recently, I spoke at a gathering. Many years ago, a woman involved in said charity and I disagreed. Her comments behind my back found their way to me. That was thirteen years ago. She was perched at a table as I approached. I said a general hello. Not wearing my contacts, I didn’t realize she was at the table until detour was no longer an option. She turned her head away at my hello. Both of us knew full well the niceties were not for each other.

Nothing inside me wanted to say, “Hey, let’s bury the hatchet.” Why? Because I remember what she said and that’s that. The end. No doubt she remembers what I said back, as do I.

So, Hillary staring straight ahead, frown prominent, makes perfect sense. As does Bill wishing he was not on the end but in the fray, yucking it up with the bros.

Need more proof? Karen Pence refused a Trump handshake. Why would she shake his hand? Guy went after her man. Don’t mess with women. We never forget, make amends or forgive your dusty ass shenanigans.

Tummy tap all you want. For the first time in my life, I’m with Hillary.