THE WOMEN IN MY LIFE
Women are funny creatures. We are sweet and sassy, forgiving and vengeful – all the things you see that go around in all of the sentimental emails. But there is so much more than that. There is a hierarchy among women, an organized system that dictates who you go to when you need help, and for what. For example:
You’ve just been dumped by the love of your life. Who do you call?
Mom will say – He wasn’t good enough for you, these things happen
for a reason
Sister says – I’m sorry. I know you feel bad. It’ll get better with time.
Best Friend says – Do you want me to run the a-hole over with my car?
You call your best friend.
You call your sister or your best friend when you’re trying to give yourself a bikini wax and you chicken out about pulling off the strips and the wax hardens and you have to use the blow dryer to remelt it. We’ll laugh at you – make no mistake, we’ll laugh a lot. But if you really need help, we’ll be there. Laughing. And pointing.
You call your mom when your dog dies. Or your plant dies. Or anything dies. You also call her when you’re sick, you need a recipe, you need a frugal way to do or fix something, or you need to feel special. Or when you’re cranky. Because she has to forgive you – she’s your mother.
You call your best friend when you’re out bra shopping and you suddenly discover that instead of a 36 C, somehow you are now a 44 DD Long.
You call all of the above when, in the middle of the night, suffering from (whisper) vaginal itching, you go to the restroom to apply Vagisil, but it’s late and you don’t turn the lights on and when the burning doesn’t go away you realize with a fair amount of horror that you have applied BenGay instead, and oh dear God, don’t try using a cold washcloth because now it’s icy and burning and…..well, anyway, you tell all of them.
When I was younger, anyone over the age of 30 was a dinosaur. And these old women didn’t have sex, they certainly didn’t have senses of humor, or feelings . They were just old. Suddenly I find myself surrounded by all these wonderful women and they are hysterical. Getting older really is funny.
- As you get older, if you cough, laugh or sneeze you pee your pants. Hysterical.
- If you lay on your back, your breasts become armrests.
- Now that you’re comfortable with your body, no one wants to see it.
- You have to pay a GYN to get anyone to look at your naughty bits.
- Lunch lady bras win out over lace and underwires.
The best thing I ever did for myself was to take a job selling sex toys to women. I would go to their houses and visit and educate women of every age, size, and nationality. Married, single and gay. And it didn’t matter. We were all the same, we all had the same concerns, the same experiences (some of us more experienced than others) and we could all laugh about it. The best women at those parties were the older ones. I remember doing a bachelorette party for a gal in her early 20’s whose mother, mother-in-law to be and grandmother were all present. Throughout the night, regardless of the topic, the grandmother kept nodding and saying “Yep. That’s right. Don’t do it that way.” Both the mothers and daughter were equally horrified. She made my night. I can’t wait until I’m an old woman.