“I’m telling you Rissa, when you’re middle-aged, your vulva gets sassy.” Rissa pauses brushing her teeth. “I’m sorry?” “Your vulva – well at least your labia – they get…” “What is happening right now?” “I was wearing those pants without underwear…” “Ma!” “I am passing on information that will be useful when YOU are 52 years…
I just want to be at my best for Christmas Eve dinner, you know? Well-presented. Whisker-free. Having spent a great deal of time yesterday absentmindedly playing with my chin and neck hairs, I knew that this morning should really be dedicated to the pre-Christmas pluck. I head to the bathroom with purpose. I ablute as…
Dear Heather: “We are writing to invite you to get checked for colon (bowel) cancer.” I’m sorry, you’re…? reads the sentence again… You’re inviting me to WHAT?? “After age 50, your risk of getting this disease goes up.” How much? How MUCH does it go up?? Could I get actual percentages here? Into what level of panic…
It’s come to this: I am now answering Facebook quizzes in my own head. Without the computer. And not the normal ones like: Which Disney Princess are you? Which Shakespearean character would you be?What breed of cat are you? Nope, this mostly Pagan gal has this one pin-balling around her cranium: Which Bible character is…
I’ve got the PF. Plantar Facsiitis. I can no longer run. I mean, sure I could run if something was chasing me – or if a building was on fire – but I’d pay for it later. I’d get up the next day, attempt to stand on both feet and then collapse to the floor…
WARNING: Female issues will be discussed. You get to be a certain age of woman and you don’t put up with as much shit anymore. You’ve made it through early parenthood and you’re still standing. You’ve mostly got it down, you know what works and what doesn’t. You’ve developed a rhythm and that rhythm generally…
On the plus side? I’m 46 years old and still alive. If this were the Middle Ages, I’d be dead already, or close to dead, or, at the very least, a great-Grandma, with incredibly saggy boobs because they didn’t have proper brassieres back then. On the minus side? The part of my brain that is…
There’s a difference between mucus and phlegm. I mean beyond the spelling. Although, frankly, just spelling ‘phlegm’ gives me a sick philologist’s thrill. That ‘g’ – it is so tasty. Basically, mucus is supposed to be there and phlegm isn’t. Mucus relates to actual mucoid tissue – like say in your nose or eyes or…
“I love you,” says David as we snuggle in under the covers. “And I love you,” I return. I contentedly sigh. “Life is good.” “Life IS good.” “Yep.” Smooch. Smooch. You know how sometimes your brain goes off on these weird tangents? One minute, I’m kissing my husband and the next I’m doing math. Rissa…
“Just so you know, if they tell me I have to amputate the arm to save my life, I’m not going to fight them.” David doesn’t even pause. “Damned straight, you’re not. That sucker’s coming off!” “For the first little while, until I have a proper prosthetic, I’ll have arm proxies. Like when I…