- Enjoy calling the cops on noisy groups of people
- Watching water boil
- Plunging the toilet
- Taking long bus rides through dilapidated neighborhoods
- Setting my wigs on fire after wearing them seven times
- Celebrating Halloween all year
- Eating snacks with Hattie, Jimmy and Robert at the Hebrew Home for the Aged at Riverdale
- Making five ingredient toast
- Recreating Public Service Announcements from the 1950s
I’ma use this picture of me with the piercing eyes that my sister took Xmas time. I’m wearing my blue terry cloth bathrobe!
Maybe I’ll catch one come Valentines Day, huh? Wish me luck!
During lunch at work, I had vagina monologues with my friend. She had known as a child that you don’t urinate out of your vagina since she had explored it with a mirror. This made me happy, because I was horrified when another friend said that she had never seen hers. What?! I thought that the Vagina Monologues had taken care of all the fear and hatred.
As my friend and I are middle-aged, the relationship with this part of our body is different. At this age, some women don’t bother with it any more, others adjust to the changing climate down there or must learn to deal with a barren tract of land – haha! I have an okay relationship with my vagina.
Have you seen your vaginas lately? I hadn’t, which is partly why I mention it now. Oh I used to look at it all the time, so I have indeed seen it. It’s just that it’s such a minor ordeal to look at your own vagina. If it were easier to see, maybe we wouldn’t have needed the Vagina Monologues – there wouldn’t be fear, horror — disgust – some say that the vagina looks like squid.
Men don’t have to position themselves in front of a mirror to see their Willy Wonkas. I should say ‘penis’ but I don’t feel like it. Since men have the privilege to view their man pieces easily, there isn’t the same mystery that’s associated with a woman’s vagina. That’s one of the reasons why vaginas kick your ass! I propose that we look at it once a week, if only just to make sure that it hasn’t morphed into a hideous sea creature.
Anyway, I’ve posted this video with Khloe Kardashian where they discuss stinking vaginas. There’s a stupid commercial first, but I do think the video’s worth the wait:
If you’re me, your shape changes in middle-age. Other things happen but I’ve been sworn to secrecy by the Coven of Middle-aged Women with Fancy Handbags. I’m mad. I work out, jog, but I am not shaped the way I used to be shaped, a subtle shifting of body mass. I was warned by the Coven. I didn’t think it would happen to me though. I eat quinoa.
And also, not to brag — I just did 50 sit ups but my stomach still protrudes. Why? Fucking fibroids. Yeah I said it. It happens more so at a certain time of the month. Why now, a few days before my author reading? I’m tired of this. I could have my uterus surgically removed. I just don’t want to be knocked out and cut so that I can have my guts ripped out.
I was waiting for that device in Star Trek to come out. Captain Kirk, Bones and Spock time-traveled. They went back in time and witnessed a 20th century surgery. Bones said it was barbaric. Their time era is the future where Bones just waves this wand thing over the part that needs surgery and – bam! I could be uterus-free in seconds with not a one scratch on me. I think it’ll be a while before this is invented, so I’ll just wait for menopause. That’s when my estrogen level is supposed to decrease, which ideally would mean that these things will shrink. But we’ll see with the luck I have.
All’s not awful though. I’ve always had kind of a big ass even when I was a skeleton. But I don’t look good bone thin anymore and that’s a good thing – like it was ever a good thing. Now I don’t need to be always worried about staying a certain weight. I’m more relaxed. The effort would be wasted anyway. When you’re this age two carrots, plus 3 walnuts, plus one celery stick does not equal ninety-eight pounds soaking wet. It equals what your metabolism tells you it will equal. Listen youngsters – eat, smoke and be reckless, because, you won’t be able to later on. I’m not killing myself to be skinny anymore, so I don’t have to smoke cigarettes and eat grass. Since my shape has changed I look like a bobble head if I’m too thin. And I realized recently that the big ass balances off my big head nicely.
*A post of vanity, by Sandee Harris