Hair, once full and glossy, now a little dull
Dyed to cover sprouting greys and fake my youth,
Tracks of time have crept across my forehead,
Worry ploughs working through the night.
The eyes begin to sag and once faint lines are clear,
Whatever makeup I wear.
Where did the girl go?
Breasts, once pert and bouncy, grapefruits not melons
Heading south, the droop begins.
Nipples, once rosebuds, now walnuts
No longer my pride and joy, just deflated tennis balls.
Where did the girl go?
Then comes the most hated, sagging mass,
Once small and rounded (never flat and taut)
With peachy smooth skin.
Now flabby, sagging, overstretched by two tenants.
The navel, once small and winking, is now a lazy eye
Surrounded by creases and orange peel skin,
Unsightly and ugly, no wonder the girl ran.
Wobbly thighs, the colour of raw sausage rub together
But there was never a gap.
Dry bony knees, bruised and scarred,
Sausage legs, with trickling blue veins appearing
Feet once described as pretty, now misshapen, nails thickening
And a crust of dry skin needs a sandblast now and then,
There is nothing left of the girl.
The bottom, once a ripe, full peach, has started the same journey
South for winter, with dimpled skin and saggy creases
And the hands start to change to veiny claws,
Worn down with years of toil, no doubt the arthritic gene
Will turn fingers bent and gnarled.
But still the shell aches to be filled,
The dark pink warm and wet cave needs to be touched
The body needs to be held, to feel the warmth of another.
The girl will not be back.
No one can love an ageing, sagging sack.
They all look for the girl.
Today’s post also comes with a soundtrack: : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHRNSeuvzlM So, it’s Aerosmith – judge me as you will.
Oh no, it really is time that the man took you in hand again!
Talk about self deprecating, glass is half empty attitude. We can all be morbid if we want; but really. Personally I think that the original lyrics were gloomy enough, but to me DSM could be summed up by the Aerosmith lines;
“I know, it’s everybody’s sin, you gotta lose to know how to win
Half my life is in books’ written pages
Lived and learned from fools and from sages”
Oh and yes you are right regarding WOS: it’s very different for boys. Going home in the early hours smelling my dalliance’s sex on my fingers was a happy secret that I enjoyed flaunting rather than the sense of oppressed shame. To the shy young thing that I was, buying the condoms from an attractive Chemist was far more desperate.
One assumes the same WOS was not felt when returning to you desk after your excursion in the office (Oct 4, ’12).
My synopsis; it really is all in the mind. I hear that the next bond girl is 40! So I suggest… you are a wonderfully experienced healthy ‘young’ cougar who really needs stop navel gazing, cover the mirror with vasoline and take life by the knob; go get yourself shaken and stirred.
Wow, DGS – I love your positive thinking – especially the advice to “take life by the knob”!
And yes, the WOS is definitely still gender-specific, even in these supposedly enlightened times. My excursion at work was a slightly different thing as I was/am certain no one would have suspected, whereas one feels a little more vulnerable trying to travel home on a Sunday morning in Saturday night’s clothes and makeup. The secret sex at work or some other ‘forbidden’location provides a little more exhilaration and the ‘kick’ of doing something very naughty that (hopefully) only you and your partner in crime know about. I got a similar thrill from grabbing a few sweets from Woolworths’ pick and mix when I was a teenager – a cheeky smirk when it was safe to do so!
Strangely enough I read somewhere that Steven Tyler wrote that song when he was just 17, which makes him one miserable teenager!
DSM x
Hey DSM,
DGS is right, less negative thinking or you’ll join the Planktonhood.
Why you should link to that site I don’t know. I paid it a visit and found that with a few very honourable exceptions a bitter bunch of ladies, who I wouldn’t have associated with you. I suspect you would have been tempted to comment but are unlikely to tell me under what pseudonym. I couldn’t be bothered to search previous posts for you but it was so out of character for you perhaps it was a long time back.
With your sense of humour and sexy intelligence , I doubt if you will ever have a problem pulling. Just don’t loose the former and always apply the latter.
As far back as I can remember I’ve always preferred older women, but nowadays that’s a bit restrictive as I’m so ancient – although from a previous post I would just about appear on your radar. An amusing aside is I was recently sat alongside a 23 year old who guessed my age at around 40 -50 and was mightily flattered until a mate pointed out that to a youngster like that 40-60-80 was all the same – fucking old.
So seeing as it pays to advertise – if “the man” disappears find yourself an older model – you’ll always be young and beautiful to him.
Thanks for your support, Lou.
Hopefully this week’s post is a little more (well only slightly) more upbeat. But we all have times when we feel a bit negative about ourselves – it’s just a case of picking ourselves up and dusting ourselves down. I am now truly up and dusted.
Is the ‘site’ you are referring to Cliterati? I find the stuff on there a pretty good read, so am not sure where you are coming from regarding ‘bitter women’. I tend to send them previous posts from here, sometimes slightly tweaked but occasionally write new material. I apply the same name as I have here so I shouldn’t be too difficult to find.
How are your plans for a blog coming along. You will have to let me know when it’s up and running so I can take a look.
DSM
Hey DSM
No the site I meant was “The Plankton”. Think Cliterati is very good. Own blog is just at the germination stage and is actually pretty straight rather than sex orientated so dont want to expound as then I would loose the benefit of anonymity here and elsewhere where Lou comments 🙂