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Saturday, July 30, 2016
It's no "journey"Posted Thursday, May 8, 2008, at 10:58 PM
The other day I heard, from one of those "soft talk show" hostesses (the kind with the soupy sweet kind of voice that you want to scare from behind with a dead mouse in her peripheral vision) on one of those channels that one just kind of skips across while on the way to find something worthwhile on TV, say that menopause is like a "journey"…like a vacation of sorts…with stops along the way to visit and take in new sites…YEAH, RIGHT….more like a trip to hell, I'm thinking.
If this is a journey, it has its potholes, not "stops"….detours, perhaps, like ending up in Detroit when you were headed for Palm Beach. Now that's a detour, not a journey. And the new "sites" are far from scenic. I'd give up the site of a two-inch long hair coming out of my chin for the site of a beach front condo any day of the week!
But, on second thought, who needs an ocean view condo? I wake up in my own personal pool of water several times a night. I'm thinking of throwing a handful of sand on the sheets and calling it Ft. Lauderdale.
And for this "journey," the way-too-sweet bimbo on the channel along the way to a real station, failed to remind us to take along some bifocals….even if you've never needed them before in your life…you'll need them on this "journey." That would be because you'll go half-blind in the process of completing your trip. Better plan on several prescriptions, because it changes daily, like your sheets.
And I didn't hear any mention from the all-too-perky (hate those kind), to take along on this "journey" some Ginko or some other aide to assist with the memory process, because the weary traveler should be forewarned that by the time they reach the half-way mark through their "journey," they will not have the ability to recall from whence they began or from where. They will come to realize that memory is a lost art…something that we once took so much for granted. I recall the ole' days of my "pre-journey," when I could enter a grocery store and actually recall what I was there to purchase. Those days have been replaced by days of piling 32 items on the counter where only 20 are allowed and realizing upon arriving home that I have everything except what I went to purchase. Oh well, those Skinny Cows were calling my name…I heard it right through the freezer case.
And I really did need sandpaper for those shelves that I'm going to refinish tomorrow or next winter, or whenever. Of course, by the time I get to the project, I'll have no clue where I put that sandpaper.
I believe menopausal women keep Wal-Mart in business. That silly greeter sees us coming and sends a signal to the powers that be, saying, "OK, here comes another meno…direct her to any aisle in the store and she'll find something she thinks she needs..just don't ask her what she came here for today."
I think that Wal-Mart also has subliminal messages directed to menopausal women that send them to the "health/beauty" aisle (do those two really need to be together?). Menopausal women are always on a mission to find a miracle-working wonder cream or lotion that will eliminate the wrinkles, restore the youthful appearance, and prevent the aging process. If the label says, "ageless" or "youthful" or "erase" or "prevent" or "restore" or "defying," it's SOLD! It simply finds flight into our carts.
Well….Minnie is done expounding. Next time you're running through the stations on your way to find something worthwhile…don't stop at the soft-spoken woman who either has never been there or pretends to have taken a bypass. She's lying. I know.
PS…I've missed ya'll.
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