When I got the paperwork for Superstars, and I saw they asked what size swimsuit I wear, I had a hot flash, nearly broke into cold sweats and hired a trainer immediately.
You know, these conservative women, somebody really needs to go repossess their ovaries. Really, truly, they have no right to them. They are fabulous, little organs and they have absolutely no right to be estrogen-bearing beings. Okay? Just cut 'em off, let 'em go through the hot flashes, let 'em just sit there and complain about hormone therapy, okay? Just take the ovaries and get it over with. Because they don't deserve to have estrogen. They really don't. It's a privilege.
Thank God I'm over the hill. The only heat I have left comes from hot flashes, my promiscuity is confined to the words "one size fits all," and I buy my white cotton unmentionables at Boadicea's Retreat, not Victoria's Secret. None of the things men do to women could possibly happen to me now unless the U.S. is invaded by one of those new Russian republics whose soldiers aren't fussy.
It was as hysterical as a woman having a hot flash.
I was getting hot flashes and sweats on a regular basis. That's not normal, even for my age.
