Life After Forty

by Marge Lafontane
September, 1999

A lot of women have a secret catalog of fears regarding turning forty. In fact, when I turned forty, I half-expected my vagina to shrivel up and fall right off! That's why I wasn't surprised when it happened. In this article, I hope to dispel some common myths women have about facing middle age, and maybe I'll help lay to rest some irrational fears that women keep hidden from their uncaring husbands who have no emotions at all.

First off, forty is no big deal. It's just another day, like any other. Your coworkers will dress up all in black and hand you "Over the Hill" birthday cards like they do every day. Your family will taunt you about being an old grandma, per usual. The girls at the beauty salon will whisper and giggle about your rumored bestiality, as if you can't hear them. And the immigrant telemarketers won't know how to pronounce your name; mud races never can. So don't fret. It's not the end of the world. Here's the reality:

When you turn forty, your breasts stop producing milk. That's right. In fact, most women consider it a blessing. Aren't you tired of waking up in a puddle of your own white gooey filth? I know I was. I can't tell you how many blouses I ruined or how many cakes I made. Your children may be upset at first and whine that they miss their mother's milk, but it's a fact of life. I told my kids flat-out, you're both grown up and in college now, it's time for you to start buying your milk at Super America like everyone else.

When you turn forty, your vagina starts to sprout teeth. They're small nubs at first, but eventually they grow into pointy incisors. Don't have sex after forty; I cut my husband up something fierce. We had to take him to get stitches to stop the bleeding. You may consider these teeth a nuisance for the first few weeks, but after awhile, you start to find practical uses for them. I use mine to open beer bottles, sharpen knives, and sometimes to scrape that last bit of grit out of the frying pan. You can even get them polished at your local dentist's office for a look that is both mature and elegant.

When you turn forty, your nipples turn into small radios. I was startled at first when I started to be able to hear radio stations through my nipples. It happened in the shower the morning after I turned forty, and for a few days at least, I thought I was going crazy. Now I enjoy the fact that I can listen to my favorite classics anytime I want thanks to my tunable nipples. Twist them all the way to the right and sometimes I can even pick up TV audio.

When you turn forty, your ass closes permanently. I haven't had a single bowel movement since I turned 40 two years ago. Some people say that isn't healthy, but I say to hell with them! It's time for women to stop letting a bunch of old men with white coats and medical degrees tell us what is and isn't normal for our bodies. A man can't understand a woman's body no matter how many books he reads, magazines he studies, or videos he rents.

When you turn forty, your skin begins to secrete a clear, sticky, gelatinous substance that can be quite tasty with pie. Sometimes it's frustrating to wake up every morning glued to the bedsheets with a bunch of stray cats licking at my naked flesh, but over time I've gotten used to, dare I say it, I've even gotten to *like* the constant stickiness of middle age, and I've even kept a few of the cutest stray cats to use in my recipes.

When you turn forty, your third bosom begins to appear. This vestigial third bosom performed some useful function for our ancestors in primitive times, and it is still used by some indigenous tribes today, but in our modern American society, it's mostly just for fun. I like to scare the neighborhood children with it when they come asking for candy on Halloween. It also turns on some of the guys who hang out at the marina at night, especially Earl. He likes to tickle it and watch me squirm.

When you turn forty, your mental capacities gradually dwindle down to the level of an autistic third-grader, named Ricky. I am actually writing this right now with the help of my facilitator, Blanch, who is a wonderful lady. I rock back and fourth and drool and moan while she guides my fingers to the correct keys and presses them for me. She does a great job and is very beautiful. She works hard and should be given a raise. My father used to stick his penis in my mouth and make me suck it.

So you see, ladies, forty is nothing to fear. In fact, when viewed in the right light, life beyond forty can be the best years of a woman's life. Aging is a beautiful thing, nature's gift, and fighting it will only make it more stressful than it has to be. Blanch is so sweet. My daddy used to fuck me in the basement while my mom was upstairs.

See you next time!


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