I Feel Like an Ice Nude…

My mom and dad used to host parties for business purposes (supposedly.) Dad owned Impact Sales, an electronics supply company in Massachusetts, and he’d often entertain potential customers by taking them to dinner at upscale restaurants or, if they weren’t landlubbers or prone to sea sickness, he’d bring them sailing on his boat in Boston Harbor. This was back in the mid-sixties and I was still in grade school. Once a year he and mom would transform our beat up five-children house into a disco-themed fantasy world. Actually, I think they just dangled disco balls from the ceiling in several rooms and replaced the boring white lightbulbs in the house with gaudy blue and red ones. There’d be all sorts of elaborate finger foods to eat and booze everywhere…

I wasn’t sure what an alcoholic beverage was back then, but I was enchanted with the Ice Nudes mom provided for the drinks. What the hell’s an Ice Nude, you ask? They were so cool! Imagine X-rated ice cubes, adult-themed, risqué, crude…sort of like the skeevy salesmen slinking around our house. The molds mom always used were about 2″ tall and depicted a voluptuous woman in a suggestive pose, nude as an ice cube can be. She’d drop these frigid women into glasses of champagne and other mystifying cocktails, and I’d watch them bobbing away, their massive boobs poking through the liquid like icebergs.

When you write a book that’s an amalgamation of a quasi-memoir, a timid self-help piece and a daring spiritual guide, and then publish said book, and scatter it across the globe (…not yet, but soon) you’ve revealed personal, private and even painful parts of your life to a crap load of strangers. Even worse, your family and friends learn what you really think…

I’m as exposed as an Ice Nude floating in a martini with only an olive for company. I’ve put myself out there, unclothed with nowhere to hide. Will I sink or swim? Will I get chewed up or left to melt into nothingness? Will I get tossed out with the unfinished drink, unwanted and forgotten? An Ice Nude doesn’t really have much of a future. Party-goers laugh at her, tell her she’s witty, then bite her head off. I can only hope that my future as the author of an amazing but peculiar book is brighter, warmer and longer lasting than that of a bare-ass naked Ice Nude. Be kind. Even Ice Nudes deserve a chance.

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Scroll to Top