I Strip for God Part 9   The Life in my Men

 

His Breast Attempt

 

          Where do I begin? Let’s start with A – Dr. Robert Atkins.

          OK I was looking for a remedy for my constipation. It’s a lifelong problem & I only realized later it got worse due to not having sex. I’d taken the vow of celibacy May 27, 1978, this was 1981 & my bowels stopped moving, I guess due to no peristaltic nervous system activity. But then I wasn’t sure.

          I am in Manhattan & I go by this huge brick clinic & there’s a doctor there – I wasn’t sure who he was but he was famous. I envisioned him as ‘Stillman,’ the ‘water doc’ – who I’d seen on TV.

          So I go in, a shaggy sheep dog greets me. I speak to the nurses & somehow they con me into getting the ‘hypoglycemia’ test – they strong arm everyone that walks in to get this, as it’s like $480. out of my pocket {no insurance} into theirs. And I fall for it.

          They take your blood – then they make you FAST – no food for 24 hours & take your blood again. Something about your blood drops real low, then real high, some crap that PROVES you – & everyone else on earth – is HYPOCLYCEMIC. And WTF does that prove & what do they do abut it? I can’t even recall but I think you have to go on what he called his diet – the same as numbnuts body builders believed in during that time that I also fell for – all meat -{I just looked his up, it says limited carbs, but the body builders then preached none}.

          Yes, I was training then & yes, I followed that foolish diet & yes, I was in perfect shape.

          Now its time to see the big man. I’m sitting on the silver table waiting for him in the white smock. He comes in I’m supposed to be bare to the waist – no nurse in sight.

          His jaw drops as he sees my body & his hand pops out to touch my breast,

          “Are those real?”

          At that moment he’s just a man, & I grab his wrist & stop him. He gasps & sits down at a table close by exclaiming,

          “But I’m a doctor!’

          And I say,

          “I came in for constipation, not a breast exam.’

      Above:  Me in 1981 – Perfection 

 

          Hearing my complaints he recommends an x ray, which I have to get elsewhere, that I never go to. I knew vaguely there was nothing to see there & as I said, with no insurance, it would be a big bite – I was poor.

          He asks me how I chose to visit him. I tell him I thought he was ‘the water doc’ & he seems disappointed.

          I look around his office & see he has ART FOR SALE. That interests me & it also makes me curious.

          Since now I now he’s a celebrity & I’m fascinated by the famous, I wonder, maybe I should ask to see his stuff.

          While I’m in the waiting room he comes around {unusual} & we chat about his paintings & somehow or other, he asks me to dinner. 

 Below – Me from 1975 to 1981

 

          You know what’s coming: The man-woman thing, how far will it get?

          He gives me his address – it’s Sutton Place, the most expensive street in NYC.

          {This place was worth millions. He told me his clinic cost him 52k a month – obviously rakin’ in the rough – all those hypoglycemia tests added up.}

          I take a private elevator to the penthouse, its modern with modern furniture. I have him take a Polaroid of me in my magenta dress. {If I can find it it’ll be here} I’m wearing my honey-blonde long wavy wig & look comfy on his grey couch.

          But I get a BIG LAUGH when I see the bedroom. Behind his bed is one of those ghastly original paintings of the orangutan with a beautiful naked woman – which I’d seen in Playboy. This is his taste in art? I know it’s expensive, but disgusting.

          The rest of the pics here & there is mostly ‘modern art,’ boring & ugly. I ask him why is it like that? He says

          “That’s what people buy.”

          And I think he’s just in it for the money, he has no LOVE of art.

          He takes me to an Indian place for dinner; the only thing I recall him saying was,

          “I hope you DON’T HAVE A GUN” lol.

          The “Scarsdale diet” doc had just been done is by a school mistress.

          We finish dinner, I say I must rush off somewhere, need a cab. He seems disturbed like what went wrong? Hey, what did he expect, that he’d now take me back to his place & get a shag? I knew that was coming – that’s why I took off.

          A short time later he calls & wants to come over for dinner. I live in Williamsburg when it was a SLUM – this was 1981 – so the idea is not exactly top notch, but I do consent.

          He talks about bringing his sheep dog but when I tell him it’s 6 flights of stairs he says the dog won’t make it.

         

I Cook Dinner for Robert Atkins!

 

          Can you believe that? And I have a phobia for cooking as Mom beat me with her fists when I tried. But I cook salmon. Can’t recall what went with it, since his diet is all protein. Can’t recall what we ate at the Indian place either, they are usually low on meat.

          I ask him how the meal was & he says,

          “You can’t go wrong with salmon.”

 

          Next, he asks me about my dancing & then surprises me by saying,

          “Show me.”

          I put on my classiest outfit – a see-through white job that is loose net on top, all long hula strings from waist to ankles, & I play my most classical music, starting with

          “Orchids in the Moonlight.”

          I take off half the stuff, if I remember right, leaving the net bra & g-string embroidered with silver rhinestones, that’s all he gets.

 

          We converse & he hints around marriage. I must say this here. With rich men it’s a tricky game. If you want to marry one, you don’t know whether to give it to them or not. If you don’t they might want you more, if you do, they might not want you. It’s a gamble. I suppose if the sex is real exciting to them – & this is all in the mind – then they’ll want you to marry you or be his mistress. But if it isn’t exciting you are a hot potato & bye. So the woman takes a risk either way.

          In my case I already knew I DID NOT want to marry him. The reasons being this. First & foremost, I was CELIBATE. The Holy Lady told me not to tell anyone – so he did not know.

          Second, he was JEWISH & I a Christian. I’m not like Marilyn Monroe or Liz Taylor, having a faith so casual I throw it aside for someone.

          And third, I was not turned on, attracted to be with him even if I gave up my celibacy & faith & I was not ‘in love’ with him.

          It wasn’t the AGE – he was 51 to my 36 in 1981 – He just didn’t sway me. I dated another ‘older’ man – Mickey Hargitay, who was a MAJOR TURN ON – Micky was 41 to my 22 in 1967. But then how can a diet doc compete with a Mr. Universe? {More on him later}

          When he realized I wasn’t interested he started talking about a lady who was being evicted from her apt that needed a place to stay, he was going to let her move in. So let her – our affair was done.