Sunday, August 16, 2009

Tender bits of woman-flesh

Our story begins with a young woman (by young I mean youthful in the grand historical mural of life. Technically, our heroine is thirty, which by hippie standards, makes her trustworthiness dubious at best). She is lulled by clearance prices and purchases a swimsuit much skimpier than her current suit. She begins the weekend by parading her newly exposed flesh by the pool. This leads to difficulties as she soon realizes that areas hither-to unexposed to the sun, are soon becoming charred remnants of their once pallid selves (she writes this whilst subtly rocking from cheek to cheek so as to minimalize the pressure on her burnt butt-flesh). The irony in this story lies in its simplicity. In her quest for a tan, she is affirming certain cultural ideals of beauty. As a feminist she should feel deeply ashamed (good thing she is getting punishment by wearing those wired bras that rub against burnt areas, much more effective than flagellation). As she progresses from milk, to wheat, to brown, she should keep in mind those girls who are forced to stay indoors lest they darken their skin. I have spoken with her in depth on the subject but she remains undeterred in her quest for skin cancer.
So now that the moral of our story has concluded (string bikinis lead to nasty burns on lady parts, plus one must shave more). I will move on.
What defines the social etiquette that serves the text messaging world? There comes a time in every text message's life, when all the fun is played out, and all one is left with is a semblance of decent human interaction. How does one text: "you are boring the hell out of me with your paltry jargon. I just want to read the Ursula Hegi book I have checked out from the glorious library, please save your boring nonsensical drivel for someone who has a tumor of the brain"? I have read enough lols, lmao, oics, to make my literature loving heart want to shrivel. Perhaps I have come into the texting scene to late in life to pick up on the subtle nuances of it's military-like anacronyms and hodge-podge groupings of grammar signs :(. I was specifically distressed when I received a text from a neighbor child, aged thirteen (regarding a community play) that read: "are u cuming". You see, in the land of morefutility cum, cuming (and any other obscure conjugations) refer to uh...sexual release. I was astounded by this young girls audacity! Not really, but I did get a good laugh. It makes me feel satisfyingly old to vent these frustrations.


  1. Oh my word, that must hurt...yikes. Here's to a quick recovery from sun burn,lassie. It looks like this is the 'month of mishaps'. I had some clothes falling apart on me at the wrong time last week! *shudders just thinking about it*

    I think you should warn those teens about that 'pure' mind of yours, just so they know what it's like to be up against the 30 somethings of the world.:-)

  2. P.S.

    You should give Fed Ex a shot,you know!:D

  3. Clothes falling apart? I hope to much brown wasn't exposed. This wasn't a Janet Jackson-like wardrobe malfunction was it? Running the risk of sounding sexually deprived, I will ask what you were wearing at the time of the mishap.
    I will never warn them. Does the Venus fly-try warn the fly, never.

  4. Fortunately...Nooooo! I would be in my grave now,as it happened in the office.
    Not to worry, it won't happen to you ever, since it had a lot more to do with my careless ways!
    Read this piece, and you'll understand why I say it wasn't the outfit, but simply Moi. Just moi. *sniffles*