Sixty-something woman shares ruminations as she plys the latter third of her life with the caveat that age entitles her to be absolutely outrageous whenever possible.
"We Three"
Monday, August 02, 2010
I've been thinking, again.
This thing about being female, and having all the important parts hidden, where you can't examine them yourselves for defects, and having to go every year for an investigation of the nether world down there, so that your PI notices if you aren't up to snuff, and kind of gets on your case. And since you know you have to go back again next year, maybe you do cut down on the doughnuts or the cigarettes, so she doesn't yell at you again. Or, if you don't, at least you know you should. Males just don't get that. Everything important is hanging out for daily examination, and, if it is working even 80% of the time, well, hell, that's pretty wonderful. They don't get a PI, not unless something goes really wrong, and by that time, it's usually too late to do anything about it, anyway. Why are we surprised that women live longer? Really, guys. The answer is in those freaking stirrups, a lot of messy goo, and a whole lot of sense. Supplements help, too.
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1 comment:
Now we can't trust the vitamin supplements anymore either. Life is dangerous and terminal too!
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