Okay, FYI: The word ‘sexual’ in the blog title totally gets like hundreds more hits! (Sad, huh?) To be honest, though, none of my New Year’s Resolutions were all that sexy unless you count…Blog EVERYDAY! Yeah. Clearly, this is why I HATE New Year’s Resolutions. Can’t keep ‘em. That, and the fact that my life is not interesting enough to write about everyday unless you find naps engrossing.
At any rate, we had a cool Yule and a neat New Year. Spent the night at the beach with my dear friend and sister in menopause, Debbie. She and I were waxing poetic about the joys of this special passage when we discovered – gasp!- that we were both still in possession of our uteruses. Uteri? Whatever.
“How weird,” we said, staring at each other in amazement. Why, none of our friends had their uterus anymore. Wendy? You still got yours?
Anyway, this led me to ask Deb… “Why haven’t we had our hysterectomy?” To which Deb (she’s a total history buff) answered, “Did you know that the word hysterectomy comes from the word ‘hysteria?’ Yes, in the olden days, when women went through menopause and started acting up, they pulled the plumbing. If that didn’t work, they sent them to a sanitarium.”
“No freaking way!”
“Oh, yeah. Ever wonder why,” she asked with her snarky-cum-philosophical expression I adore, “when a man gets a little long in the tooth, they don’t castrate him?”
“Never thought of it!” I was gob-smacked.
“Can’t ya just hear the doctor? Say, buddy. Your wife says you’ve been a real jerk lately. How about we remove those testicles? After all, you’ve had all your kids and don’t really need ‘em any more. Waddaya say?”
I just stared at Deb. I mean, her brain just never ceases to amaze me. And make me laugh like I wish I was wearing Depends.