In the last ten years, I’ve only had my ass grabbed by a client once. Ok, twice. (I believe his gondolas are still in for repairs). So, I suppose that’s progress.
It’s International Women’s Day, Pumpkins, and one can’t help but take a moment to … well, to yawn really. Let’s face it ladies, it’s a mamby pamby name. And I really don’t see how singling out one group helps the cause. We’re supposed to be celebrating all women, not just the international ones.
Have we advanced girls? I haven’t used my cleavage to try and get out of a speeding ticket in years. Mostly because cops deal with enough trauma.
But in my own bosom, I wonder if we’ve progressed since the days when men owned us. When I get to gabbing on a bit, my Mr. Gabbalot can be quite disparaging. He says I’m the reason women used to be called chattel. It’s no use explaining chatty doesn’t come from chattel. (It doesn’t, does it?) Anyhoo, cutting off his allowance readjusts his attitude pronto.
If we’re going to get behind a movement, we need a name with some real legs like “International Broad Day.” If you know any who deserve a good tooting, let me know! (That’s what those comment forms below are for).
