Secret Women's Business

With my tongue planted in my cheek, I have begun the process of identifying various “types” of women based on their vehicles. My current list is as follows: Ultra-feminine woman. The car smells of perfume and potpourri. There may be fringed or ruffled pillows on the back, Helen Steiner-Rice poems displayed on the dashboard, frangipani stickers on the rear windows, and a small homemade quilt as a throw or cover. Girl-child. Car is full of stuffed toys. Neat freak. The car is immaculate inside and out. The only bumper sticker is the one of their car dealer (unless they have had time to scrub it off). Overwhelmed Mother. Car is a total mess. The floor at the back seat has McDonald's wrappers, mouldy apple cores, the packaging of toys that have been hastily ripped apart, discarded socks, crushed school notices, etc. Biological experiments are growing in the deeper layers, hidden under more recent child offerings. Hyper-religious. Likely to have not only a fish sticker but a challe...

Women over 50 don't have babies because they would put them down and forget where they left them. A friend of mine confused her Valium with her birth control pills... she has 14 kids but doesn't really care. One of life's mysteries is how a 2-pound box of chocolates can make a woman gain 5 lbs. My mind not only wanders, it sometimes leaves completely. The best way to forget your troubles is to wear tight shoes. The nice part about living in a small town is that when you don't know what you are doing, someone else does. The older you get, the tougher it is to lose weight because by then, your body and your fat are really good friends. Just when I was getting used to yesterday, along came today. Sometimes I think I understand everything, and then I regain consciousness. I gave up jogging for my health when my thighs kept rubbing together and setting fire to my knickers. Amazing! You hang something in your closet for a while and it shrin ks 2 sizes! Skinny people irritat...