Last month I had a gentleman’s fingers in my anus. And they were not my husband’s. Not that I am saying that my beloved is into that kind of thing. But I just never really imagined saying that sentence out loud when I was 20 or even 30, for that matter. And now having only just turned 48, that was the kind of congratulatory reward I found myself in for.
No party. Corona times. But a man telling that my butt is stuffed. Quite literally.
I could have told him that. Actually.
So I am getting a pump. Like a little old lady. And a sitz bath. The post birthday gifts kept coming… But the thing is: I may only be 48 (and look a mere 45) but mentally, I’m still only about 30. I’ll give it to you – physically, I concede, I’m probably more 50+. But how the hell did this happen?
Still, I’m embracing the future with much optimism. I have been told, on supposedly good authority, that my life will improve in leaps and bounds. I will be a new woman.
I am most definitely up for that!!