Posts Tagged Target Lady at Christmas
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. 😉