Day 161, October 31

Have you ever wondered about varicose veins?  Like, why do we have them?  And what're we supposed to do with them once we do?

For those among you too young to have experienced varicose veins, count your blessings but be prepared.  Pregnancy played a dirty trick on some of us, leaving not only stretch marks but nasty little clumps of veins in our legs.  Like my legs need more clumps and bumps and lumps.  My calves, which were once smooth and firm and toned, now look like two roller coasters, dips and waves, ups and downs, and everything in between.

Add some purplish veins and the knots that go with them, and you have something that Hollywood makeup artists only dream of achieving when they struggle to fashion scary stuff!

Gem for the day:  varicose veins are part of the Fall.   Oh, Eve, you have a lot to answer for.

Day 160, October 30

By the time a woman has reached menopause, she has probably learned how to stretch a dollar until it is as limp as the elastic in an old pair of sweat pants.  My own dollar-stretching has included any number of cheapskate tactics.  However, I recently learned that I'm not even in the same zip code as some frugal people when I watched a program entitled "Extreme Cheapskates."

Among the money saving tactics these individuals used included eschewing toilet paper.  They did all sorts of things to avoid using toilet paper, including cutting up old pieces of cloth, using them to "take care of the paperwork," then collecting them in a bucket and washing them once a week.  Another woman uses nothing at all, only a squirt bottle of water to tidy things up.  Serioiusly?

I'm all for saving a buck.  I can garage sale with the best of them, but I draw the line at doing without toilet paper.  What's more, I cough up the extra pennies for soft, cushiony toilet paper.  (My tush is delicate.)

Gem for the day:  if you can do without TP, more power to you.  If you're like me and need the reassurance of it, the same goes!

Day 159, October 29

All writers aspire to make the NYT bestseller list.  (If they don't, they are well too adjusted to become writers in the first place.)

When I read that FIFTY SHADES OF GRAY made the list, I was immediately envious.  I knew I didn't have a similar novel in me, but did come up with some nifty titles.  Tell me what you think:

Fifty Shades of Dishwasher Blond
Fifty Shades of Pasty White
Fifty Shades of Tired and De-sausted.
And, sometimes when dealing with my husband, AKA The Wretch, Fifty Shades of Mad as Hell

Gem for the day:  before you decide to write your Fifty Shades, make sure you know you have it in you.  Fifty of anything is a bunch.

Day 158, October 28

I related how my sister, Carla, and I recently visited Vegas.  While there, we perused the high end department stores.  One saleslady at a cosmetic counter promised to wipe away my undereye circles and bags and to erase the "feathers" around Carla's eyes with her overpriced, miracle cream.

She dabbed a plastic applicator into the cream and held it out.  "See how it glistens?  You can use it all over.  It will change your life."

Really?  That little dab of goop is going to change my life?  I don't think so.

"Honey," I drawled.  "It's going to take a lot more than that to change my life."  I picked up the jar of cream, saw that it was ninety five dollars for less than an ounce.   In my wildest fantasies, I wouldn't spend ninety five dollars for something that looks like mayonaise.  Give me a break.

"You will be sorry if you don't buy it," she said with a look of disapproval.

Gem for the day: I'd be sorry if I did buy it.  And I'm not talking about just the cream.


 

Day 157, October 27

It's no secret that I can be occasionally naughty.  It seems to have gotten worse the older I get.  I attribute it to the lack of hormones.  My estrogen dried up a long time ago, along with my skin, hair, and a lot of my good sense.

Still, I try to walk the straight and narrow.  I can hear you protesting now, saying, "Jane, no way do you do that." 

I beg to differ.  Just the other day I wrote a letter to the editor of our local paper. Surely that is the mark of a woman trying to walk the straight and narrow.  And there is my absolute devotion to my cat, Harley.  A person on the wrong path would not cater to her kitty's every need.

Gem for the day:  walking the straight and narrow doesn't mean you can't kick up your heels now and again.

Day 156, October 26

I told you how my sister, Carla, and I are trying to learn street talk.  Well, we had plenty of chances to practice it during the past few days while we were in Las Vegas.  My husband, Larry, accompanied us, to bring mail money, he says. 

First, Carla was mistaken as a lady of the evening.  In her most tough, street talk fashion, she told the man who wanted to procure her services, "Bite me."

"Thanks.  I think I will."

We quickly learned that "bite me" isn't the thing to say to a man who wants to hire you to fill his fantasies.  (Unless, of course, you're into that kind of thing.)

Not to be outdone, I told the next man (he wanted Carla as well--go figure) but I claimed him as a conquest, "True dat."  I don't know what he was saying, but I figured "True dat" works in just about every situation. 

He flashed me a yellow-stained tooth grin.  "True dat, yourself." 

Gem for the day:  what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.  Or, we hope so.

Day 155, October 25

Recently, I came across the term "re-virgination."  As always, the writer in me was eager to learn a new word, especially one as evocative as this.  As I read more about it, though, I was perplexed.  Even stunned.  Re-virgination?  Really?  Isn't that like trying to unring a bell?

It occurred to me that menopausers are always being told that we need to "re-something."  We are supposed to re-invent ourselves.  We are supposed to re-juvenate ourselves.  (In fact, there is a cosmetic procedure called rejevederm, touted as the successor to collagen injections.)   Now, we're supposed to re-virginate ourselves.

If you're like me, you want to shout, "Enough."  Why must I re-invent, re-juvenate, or re-virginate myself?  Why am I not good enough as I am?

Gem for the day:  the next time someone tells you to "re-something," tell them where to stuff it.