Good news, used-up carcasses (aka, middle-aged women)!
Your boobies and lady gardens, while deflated, wrinkled and musty, are still somewhat servicable to the other gender.
When I packed my vagina away in a Klip-It™ Meat Keeper Storage Plus, I figure that was the end of it. Time to shrivel up like a raisin and live in the woods in my house on chicken legs.
It’s a story as old as a middle-aged, gnarled and misshapen face. You hit 35 and are then put out to pasture so that menfolk can enjoy the younger objects and not be subjected to dry-heaves by your upper-arm flab.
I wish I could take credit for this brilliant insight; an impossiblity because I possess a woman brain and am therefore using 76% of its capacity on keeping up my kegels. The credit all goes to
walking nutsack Tom Junod.
In an article for Esquire, which I initially mistook for The Onion, Junod pontificates on how 42-year-old women aren’t so gross as long as they resemble Cameron Diaz.
“Let’s face it: There used to be something tragic about even the most beautiful forty-two-year-old woman. With half her life still ahead of her, she was deemed to be at the end of something—namely, everything society valued in her, other than her success as a mother.”
But now, Junod has discovered, he still kind of wants to put his dick in some of these tragic ladies.
And that’s all it took, you old hags. A man to notice your worth.
I only wish Elizabeth Cady Stanton was alive to read this. . . and then get banged by Tom Junod.