Basically that there are four really stupid men in this world.
Two of them I married, one I considered marrying for about 2.3 seconds and the fourth I can't even remember his last name. (I feel a little guilty about that one).
As much as I hate to admit it the days of bewitching men seem to be over for me. I don't know many dudes that are seeking 40 something women with cottage cheese thighs and saggy boobs. Even if they are 36 double D.
36 Double D at 30 is hot. 36 Double D at 40 means picking those baby's up off my stomach to strategically maneuver them into a breast reduction bra so I can button my blouse.
For a while I refused to admit I was no longer the hottest ticket in town. SCM still thinks when I leave the house I have men following me around like the Pied Piper of Hamelin but the reality is, the only men that are following me are holding "Please give what you can. God Bless you" signs.
I guess it is time to trade my big girl panties for granny panties and admit to myself the future belongs to the hot young thangs with long hair, tramp stamps and low rise jeans.