Parking tickets and the ageing vagina

I’ve possibly built this one up a little too much. But here goes …

I can’t take credit for today’s blog heading, DD came up with it.

He’s very good with words for a scientist.

Although possibly it should read “Parking tickets and the ageing vulva.”

Erk.

I don’t know why the word “vulva” makes me go “erk.” It must be the prude in me. It’s so … visceral.

Vagina is less confronting for some reason. But they’re not the same thing. One is inside, one is outside.

Aren’t I good at digressing?

Why did DD come up with the heading “Parking tickets and the ageing vagina”?????

Well, I sent him a garbled text message the other day expressing my panic that I was going to get a parking ticket because I’d been so engrossed in writing about my ageing vagina.

Dating me is never dull.

Let me explain the parking ticket bit (before I move on to the pink bit/s): on the days when I pick the kids up from school I drive to work and park in one of the rare but highly sought-after two-hour parking spots near the office. Then I do anxious circuits of the suburb at lunch time when my time is up and it’s time to find another one. I used to just check for chalk on the tyres, but those damn parking inspectors got wise and started taking photographs of cars who were outstaying their welcomes instead.

The result: two tickets in two days. Ouch.

And yep, another one this week. Double ouch.

I’m also a bit lairy of more fines because I just paid $425 – and lost 3 points – for turning left on a red arrow on January 17. I drew a total blank on the incident intially, but I’ve finally realised it occurred when I was driving my ex and the kids to dinner at our favourite Indian buffet one Sunday night.

Isn’t that an awesome reward for positive co-parenting … a massive fine.

I must ask my ex if HE remembers me breaking the law, because I bloody don’t.

Fume, fume.

I’ve digressed again, haven’t I? You don’t care about my fines, you just want to know about my ageing vagina.

Actually, you don’t. But it’s a more titillating subject than fines.

Well, I read a story last week about how vaginas age. Hint: it’s not pretty.

Staring down the barrel of turning 50 in two years meant I was FASCINATED.

So I  forwarded it to the lifestyle editor of Kidspot as a possible story idea.

She replied that she thought it was an awesome … and would I like to write a version for her?

Ummmmm … well … not really, but … since I’m not very good at saying no …OK, yes.

Then I dug myself in deeper by asking if she fancied me writing it from the perspective of a 47-year-old woman realising she was ageing down-there after getting her first Brazilian.

She LOVED the idea.

So I wrote it and it was published on the Kidspot website yesterday. (I’m issuing the mother of all warnings: its VERY TMI. I can’t even bring myself to click on it, so you shouldn’t feel any obligation, although the social media editor did note: “I just spat out my water with laughter over your Brazilian post.”)

If you get a sense of deju vu it’s because you may have read the first bit of the story before – I plagarised one of my old blog posts to kick it off.

And there you have it … parking tickets and the ageing vagina … what better way to start the day?

Song of the day: Men at Work “Down under”