When I entered my 40’s, I heard my biological clock ticking very loudly. I knew I only had a few more years left of natural lubrication. I don’t think most women think about that in their early 40’s (maybe they do and we’re just not communicating) but it really concerns me. It’s one of the things we only think about when faced with pharmaceutical ads showing women on a bed talking vaguely about painful sex. For me it’s like being punched in the hooha. It’s a wake up call. But there is no call to action because there is nothing I can do to prevent it.
I actually have not fully accepted the inevitable though. Even though intellectually I know it is in my future, I have a glimmer of hope that I will be spared the dessication. I know it’s wishful thinking, like my chance of winning the lottery, but I have some kind of hope my body will beat the odds. I wouldn’t say it’s faith, like a belief in God. It’s more like a disbelief that I can’t control my body.
When does a woman’s vagina stop being called a pussy. Ok, I could just say vagina because I guess it’s redundant to say woman’s vagina. Anyway, there must be a limit to using the word pussy. I hope at 45 I haven’t reached that age. As derogatory as some may find it, I’ll feel worse when it won’t apply to me. Pussy has a sexual connotation (unless trying to emasculate a man). Am I reaching that “last fuckable” day like in that Amy Schumer video?