MARCH 13, 2005
March is the cruelest month—will gray winter never end?—and no sign of the lion lying down with the lamb (or anyone else).
Shall we pause to take stock?
Female (liberated, at least from fraught marriage), age 52, height 5’5”, weight 120, bone density excellent, minimal cellulite, maximal hot flashes.
Possessions: 2 Best Cats in the World; 1 degree in creative writing and journalism (what was I dreaming?); 1 dead-end job transcribing medical reports. 1 charming 1920s bungalow with 30-year mortgage and badly in need of new windows, trim, and roof. 1 aging Subaru wagon, 1 bicycle. 3 recycle bins.
Green eyes, somewhat nearsighted; long hair, braid optional (blah light-brown, but disguises the gray strands appearing); “terrific ass” (impartial testimony of ex-husband); no-longer-firm jawline; 1 and 3/4 breasts.
Months since sex: 27.
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