Fun the Nun wiped the mist from her mirror. Yes, wrinkle cream had definitely worked. Who was that old woman staring back at her? Her name was Deborah White, one of the town's church people. She was known in her ladies' circle as the devout one. She always sat in the back pew, singing loudly off key, never doing her knee mails. She couldn't really, she was a sixty plus daily wrap of fat. Her fat cells lingered, gentle, permeating, timeless and eternal.
Deborah White knew exactly where her fat had originated. A solo lady, she sometimes hankered for a beau, someone reliable and sincere. Sheer optimism. Most of the time, the Fun Nun advised her friends that it was food before dudes. Obesity loomed, not such a mystery, really. As a retired lady of leisure, she enjoyed her daily routine, in a comfort zone, with a slightly flexible approach.
One part of Fun the Nun's routine was exploring and rating the cakes at her local bakery, with a decent treat of good coffee. Deborah had really turned into a human Garfield, her lazy senior afternoons included coffee and naps. Once a week, she would venture to her favorite bakery, and order a cup of blessings, with her carbs de jour. She silently awarded a variety of secret trophies, dependent on the quality of the cakes. This was one of her hobbies, eating cakes, her special subject, you might say. A moment on her lips, a lifetime on her hips. The Fun Nun called herself cuddly from here on in! So that was where her cellulite came from, always developing, a growing concern.
One particular day, Deborah, the Fun Nun, was refreshing her soul at the cake shop. Today's cake was a totally delightful coffee scroll, nice and fresh. Delish! The coffee was her cup of life, full to the brim. The Fun Nun practiced her attitude of gratitude, and sent a devotion of thanks for her first world privileges, winging upstairs to the Head Honcho of her religious team.
Just then, a debonair man around her own age entered the coffee shop, sitting at a table opposite Deborah. The Fun Nun patted her grey upswept hair into place. Did she have crumbs all over her? Probably. This was a male she had noted at her church, one of her faith community. Deborah wondered how she could ever introduce herself, meet a guy like that. Her low self-esteem inner society shrank back from even attempting to make cringe-worthy conversation.
She imagined what her garment and love police would say. Guess that is what friends are for, a reality check. Deborah sipped her coffee, considering any approach.
Yeah, that might suit the Fun Nun, if she had such a handsome suitor. What would a real nun tell Deborah? "Pray and do not worry, nothing is impossible to the Lord." "Right," thought Deborah, in her Mata Hari mode. It might be fun for a Nun. Deborah asked for divine guidance here, as her potential soulmate ate his coffee scroll, immersed in his daily newspaper. He was totally oblivious to her secret fantasies about joining their sacred chakras.
Suddenly, an inspiration. Here goes nothing, she decided. Deborah finished her cup of excellent coffee, and her cake. It was all good for her endorphins. Her fat hips were still morphing, but there was now more of her to love. Maybe. Deborah gathered up her novel and shoulder bag. Leaving, she pretended to trip over her chair, and nearly landed in the stranger's lap. Some men are very strange, but you never know your luck in this small town.
"What a clumsy!" Deborah told the startled man. "Great buns!" she remarked, quickly grabbed his mobile phone. He did not notice, he was rescuing his coffee. "See you at church!" the Fun Nun declared, "We're more religious than the Pope!"
Then Deborah flushed, embarrassed by this repartee. She left the bakery. But, she had his phone nestled in her bag. This might change the course of her life, a chance encounter over a snack. At some stage, he would have to ring his own phone, to see where it was. Subterfuge, with the magic of a real woman. "Fun the Nun must never look back," Deborah told herself. "You are a clumsy! Staying positive is a grace. He might be the sperm who wins the race."
The rest of the afternoon dawdled by, time slowed, or was it standing still? Deborah spent some solitude reading, listening to classical music, enjoying a quiet, but fattening meal, in her ordered world. Maybe she was her one, after all.
Deborah waited for his phone to ring. Would he phone? What would she say next? At 6 pm, it was all too much for her handsome stranger. He did phone his own mobile.
"Jeremy White here. Who has my phone? Why have you got my phone?"
"Deborah White here. Silly mistake. I thought it was my phone. What a silly clumsy I am?"
'What did you say your name was?"
"And I am Jeremy White." They both laughed, a little shy.
"You need your phone," the Fun Nun said, still cuddly, potentially.
He said, "I need to meet you. Great buns."
The Fun Nun giggled. "10 am at the bakery tomorrow. We'll eat some more coffee scrolls."
Touchdown! She had a date. Maybe this was the modern concept of being proactive, man hunting. Could this be true love, the answer to finding a beau? Deborah went to bed, wondering if he was a strange man, this handsome stranger. Perhaps he was foot loose and fancy free.
The Fun Nun wondered if she should ask for his ex-wife's phone number, while she was sussing him tomorrow. Jeremy and the Fun Nun might need arthritis cream to unpack their baggage. Bit of a mystery, really, expanded into fantasy. Perhaps this was the answer to her prayers. "Nothing is impossible to the Our Lord." That was Deborah's comforting thought, as the Fun Nun smiled herself to sleep, snoring discreetly. Boy, was she having sweet, sugary dreams tonight!