Posts Tagged humor
Just so you know you all aren’t the only ones who have to put up with my vaginal whining. Poor Jane has had more than a few earfuls along with the other friends in our little circle. It would seem though that I am the only one willing to openly gripe, and probe about the deteriorating condition of my uterus. I know for a fact that I am not the only one old enough to face these issues since I am third (She types proudly 😉 ) to the youngest in our little bunch.
Jane has me beat in the birthday department by a few years so after my repeated hounding she finally snapped saying she really didn’t see the point of dwelling on this subject. Now at this particular point I completely tucked away my despair due to my sudden amusement of her reaction. Yes I’m a horrible friend who is actually amused by her friend’s discomfort over subject matters that make them squirm. Jane in particular is still sensitive to her stripper pole injury that ended in her having to use a walker for a little while.
The injury has long since healed, but she is still touchy about my public ribbing in her doctor’s office. Okay a lot of ribbing even outside of the office too.See my post “Love Hurts- When You Fall Off Your Stripper Pole.” I just wish I were able to completely convey the hilariousness of Jane when she is embarrassed by something. As I type this out loud it occurs to me that if she were as awful a friend as I am she would have realized that I had actually given her some pretty good ammunition to retaliate. Lucky for me she was so uncomfortable with my “Vagina monologue” that the idea has not even occurred to her.
Finally Jane confesses that my vagina isn’t the only one with drought issues. Her face scrunched up, and her left eye twitching nervously. Seeing the eye twitch immediately lowers my maturity number to the single digit level. So I lean forward holding my imaginary interview microphone, and ask her how she’s bringing rain to her desert. She physically scoots farther away from me on the couch, then snaps “That this is the exact reason why she does not want to have this discussion with me!” So of course I scoot closer to her with my imaginary microphone in hand, and say ” Jane what kind of friend refuses to share her dried up vagina stories with a friend inquiring minds want to know?” Her eye stopped twitching while her middle finger shot up, then she made a “Target Lady at Christmas dash for her bar.
I run over next to her promising to never call her vagina a desert again as tears stream down my cheeks trying to control my laughter. Jane slaps my arm, then asks me what exactly did I want to know? My first question was why she never brought this subject up to me? Okay dumb question I know, but there is seriously some great secrecy out there with women who are experiencing some betrayal from their own vaginas. Then she looks me straight in the eye, and asks me “How much humor was I finding with in my own desert?” Yep, it’s all fun & games until it’s your dried up vagina. 😉
The female vagina is quite possibly one of the great mysteries in life. Women like men sometimes name their secret spot. I have been known to call my own “The Magical Vagina” on more than one occasion, g-2 even trade marked my pet name at one point. Lately though I have revoked her (my “Magical Vagina”) of the privilege due to the fact that she has become a traitorous bitch.
Being a female I have experienced more than a few back- stabbings from other vaginally equipped species of my gender, but the betrayal of my very own “Magical Vagina” was a completely harsh blow. I’m not exactly sure why I thought my personal vagina would be impervious to the symptoms of “The Big M” (Menopause), but I did. I find being betrayed by one’s own vagina to be unsettling in more than one way.
The secrecy of the well-known betrayal runs deeper than one might imagine. Aside from “Frankie & Grace” no one seems to want to talk about it. I guess for women it’s on the same level as erectile dysfunction, there seems to be a great deal of shame attached to the whole phenomena. This shame has some pretty deadly side effects, and should come with some strong warning labels like-…
Warning your vagina can suddenly go from being a lush garden to a dry, and barren desert. Side effects include painful sexual encounters, the forced practice of finding compatible lubricants, and God forbid vaginal tearing.
You may find yourself being secretly ambushed over a period of time by a diminishing sex drive caused by a depression that sneaks up on you like a terrorist in an airport. The terrorist (Menopause) is there right under your nose. You know it exists, but it’s attack is somehow surprisingly devastating.
Dealing with the psychological realization that you have to first accept, then deal with your no longer “Magical Vagina” can cause you to unknowingly leave your sexual partner feeling unwanted, and undesirable.
The fear that your sex life will never be the same again may cause severe bouts of irrational thinking/bizarre reactions. Such as the demonizing of your own genitalia. resulting in such things as revoking her previously glorious title “The Magical Vagina!” 😉
I went to lunch yesterday with just Jane. It was the first time in our decades long relationship that I actually felt odd. So I decided to tell her up front that my strangeness has nothing to do with her, and that I’m not really sure where it’s coming from myself. I didn’t want her to feel like it was something between us.
I told Jane that I didn’t know how to approach all of this without making her feel like I was sitting in judgement of her.She told me that she knew perfectly well what my stance would be on the infidelity side of this issue so we could just skip that part of the conversation. We’ve been friends long enough for me to know this, but somehow hearing her say the words made me feel better.
She went further to say that she knew me well enough to know that I would think it was a stupid, and self-destructive decision. Even I felt the sting of her wording, and I winced at the harshness of my own thoughts. That’s the problem with having friends like me who won’t lie to you, we are so concerned with being truthful with you that we forget how harsh the sound of those words can be.
I smiled then asked her if she didn’t need my judgement, or a harsh tongue lashing I couldn’t possibly imagine what I could do to make her feel any worse. Then we both busted out laughing, and just like that all the awkwardness disappeared. I actually felt like my former self for a while. That’s the kind of beauty that comes from listening to the opinions of others without being defensive.
It’s funny because that was the whole idea behind having this blog. A chance to vent without hiding the truth. I read very carefully the things you say, and it’s pretty enlightening to look at the world through the eyes of those who have had different experiences. You all help me look at things in a way that helps me to be a better person. I am more grateful for this gift than my words can express, so for now let me just say thank you.
I have to head off to work now but I promise to tell you the rest of what happened with Jane, and Ex-hubby when I get home.
Her hands trembled as her eyes nervously roamed around the room. I felt her apprehension the moment I entered the room. She was not herself. She was full of anxiety over her desire to hide herself, and her desperation to expose herself. Her need to know brought her out of the shadows of her long hidden existence.
It’s something that occurs when ones own mortality is faced with the realization that time is dwindling. When one reaches the point where anger still lingers inside them. Their anger is no longer about their limited mortality, it is about the realization that the power to reach for their own desires in this life where always within their own capabilities.
It comes from realizing that you held the keys to the kingdom in your very own hand, but your mind hid them from your eyes. She stared right through me with her “Bette Davis Eyes,” I was frozen by her gaze. “I have never had an orgasm.” I sat down beside her, and in my desperation to comfort her the regret that was overwhelming her I said “I’m pretty sure a lot of women from your generation may not have.”
She searched my face for any signs of bullshit. When she felt satisfied that I was not patronizing her she asked me what it was like? In my mind I wasn’t sure if I could describe what an orgasm felt like to her. It struck me that it would be like describing color to a person who had always been blind. My moment of pause caused her to become embarrassed by her question so in her true “Bette Davis” like way she snapped harshly at me. “Just never mind!”
I smiled at her, and explained that it would be like describing sex to someone who had never had sex. I asked her to give me a moment, then I told her that for me it is the point where desire meets intensity. A moment where both my mind, and my body reach a point of intense urgency. A point where my body no longer waits for my permission to respond, and I am completely taken over by tremors of pulsating euphoric release that are completely beyond my control.
I can see the wheels turning in her head. Then smiling she looks up at me, and says ” Well way to dangle the perfectly grilled steak in front of the woman with no teeth!” 😉
If you’re not laughing out loud at least once a day then you are truly not living. Yesterday morning “Bette Davis” was completely stoked about her day because her pastor was coming by for a visit. Let me point out to you that we are talking about a woman who is terminally ill, and has been sleeping upright in a chair for an entire year who was absolutely giddy. Two things light her up like nothing else in this world. The first is great humor, and the second is a good looking man, and her young handsome pastor fits into both of those categories.
“Bette Davis” and I watch a lot of comedies together, and one of our absolute favorites are the old reruns of the television show “Reba.” If you have never seen this show I need to apologize to you because you will not get the humor of this post, but for those of you who have you will completely understand the hilarity of this moment. There is a character called Barbra Jean. She is a tall beautiful funny character who is prone to getting innocent crushes on men who are not her husband. Barbra Jean has a huge crush on her pastor, so much so that she once gave him a copy of “The Thorn Birds.” She also refers to him as “Reverend Yummy Pants.”
“Bette Davis” who normally could care less about her appearance wanted me to doll her up before the young goodlooking pastor arrived. He was coming a little sooner than usual, and rushing someone who struggles to breathe is tricky. We managed to get her on her “A” game best, but moving too quickly slows down the amount of oxygen that flows to her brain, and sometimes renders the usually very articulate “Bette Davis” in a state of slight forgetfulness.
Finally we hear the doorbell ring, and this dolled up 80 year-old is so giddy she’s literally beaming. This is something she knows I will make fun of later after he leaves, but she will masterfully hide this from him when he enters the room. He only sees the well educated sensible parishioner who until her illness ran church affairs with the up most dignified capability. So when the pastor walked into her room I looked over to watch her masterfully change her expression from giddy to complete composure (so I could imitate her of course after he left), but she looked a little winded, and slightly like she was struggling to find her words.
Then all of a sudden she sits up, and blurts out “Good morning reverend yummy pants!” I saw her face as she realized what she had said, and then I saw the open mouthed shock hit the young pastor’s face before he quickly composed the shock to a warm smile. I completely lost myself in hysterical laughter! Then “Bette Davis” with her red face trying to rectify the moment says to the pastor “So do ever watch the show Reba?” 😉
There he stood on his tiny chair in the middle of his preschool cafeteria making his royal stance adamantly clear. My eyes surveyed the room. His poor teacher was completely unsure about what to do. The other children were entranced by his command of the room. “The Baby” otherwise know as “The King” was perched on his tiny little chair with his index finger pointing straight up in the air shouting at the top of his little lungs “Never I say, never!”
“The King” is not your average 4 year-old boy. He falls into several categories within the Autistic spectrum. Although his intellect borders on brilliant, his speech is severely delayed. The biggest problem with “The King” is that his mind is bursting with thoughts that his speech simply cannot relay. So he has learned to make his royal commands, and desires intensely clear in other ways. This king will be heard whether he is able to express his wishes with words or not.
He is intensely easy on the eyes. His large beautiful blue eyes draw you in then while you’re completely captivated he throws you a smile that lets you know you are probably going to give him whatever he wants. Adults, and children alike are often drawn into his kingdom with not so much as even a single word. He commands your attention while systematically getting you to relent to his every wish.
On the flip side of his charismatic charms there is a tyrant who loses his shit when his powers of persuasion are not being understood, or worse yet denied. Like all great rulers he knows that when his charms are not doing the trick you have to rule with an iron fist. He has a new teacher who is quite young, and clearly has not had the experience of dealing with a 2 -1/2 foot tall ruler. I have dealt with this mighty king since he was a year old. Over this period of time I’ve been extremely lucky to have found myself very much in “The King’s” favor.
I have the ability to understand him in a way that does not require so much energy output on his part, so he tolerates me much more easily than the rest of his subjects. I don’t deal with him in a verbal way because I know that when he realizes he is not able to converse back in the same way he becomes frustrated. I can see from the look on his face that he feels defeated by his inability to speak. Plus it’s good for him to see that I am as bilingual at getting what I want in the nonverbal sense as he is. He likes this about me. He knows I share the same admiration for him in this way.
However much to “The Kings” dismay I am equally as tenacious about fulfilling my job requirements as his personal assitant. So as he stood perched on his tiny chair I walked over to him, and looked down towards the ground signaling him that it was time to step down. He looks me straight in the eyes to let me know he is not ready to comply. So I look him back in the eye being ever so cautious not to be mesmerized by his charms, and I raise both of my eyebrows while smiling at him.
He is assured by my smile that I am not issuing a command so he climbs down off of the chair, and starts to walk away towards the door. I remain by the chair until he realizes I am not following him towards the door. He looks at me with slight disgust, then I smile again and stare down at the chair that has not been pushed back into the table, and the snack (of apples & raisins) that remained uncleared. He gives me a pronounced hesitation just to make sure I know he is making a choice, not following a command. Then he walks over pushes in his chair, and clears his uneaten snack from the table.
I smile at him again. He looks at me in a way that let’s me know he is only conceding to my wishes only because he wants to, but he knows that I will stand there like an immovable mountain until he relents. Then he looks at me again with his “Happy now look?,” and I beam back at him so he knows that I am. I hand him his royal nap blanket, his box of apple juice, and his bag of pretzels. As we walk down the hallway I look at him with my “What happened in there face?” He smiles at me then in four tiny words says ” I don’t like raisins.” 😉