Greetings Six Sunday Readers! I hope that you, like me, are enjoying the onset of autumn – isn’t it marvelous to see the Brach’s candy corn and pumpkin mix hit the shelves? Today I’m featuring six sentences from an essay of mine, “The View From A Broad”, that appears in the book: “Knowing Pains: Women on Love, Sex and Work in our 40’s”. As October and its pink ribbon days approach, you have a chance to help eradicate a cancer that strikes far too many women worldwide. All proceeds from “Knowing Pains”, a collection of essays profound and profane by writers from around the U.S., benefit a cancer charity.
It’s taken me decades to drag myself into an athletic club. And I would have happily avoided the gym for the rest of my life, since a room full of exercise equipment is about as appealing to me as a voluntary organ transplant, but for the fact that I don’t have a shower.
For the past few years, I’ve tried to convince myself that there’s nothing wrong with slithering through the streets wearing a thin layer of soap and shampoo residue (and, when I’m lucky, a bit of hair dye as well). Sometimes I even congratulate myself for being so clever as to always have that base layer of fragrance in place; after all, I always smell like the lovely Roger and Gallet’s linden blossom bath gel I pour into my tub. Okay, it’s a little bit disgusting to wear dead skin cells and old soap every day, and it can’t be too good for my pores, but, hey, it’s one of the many compromises I have made in exchange for the chance to live in Paris.
I accept that showers are now like half-gallon milk jugs and candy corn, luxuries to be savored on vacation.
As always, thank you for your visit. May your week be fabulous.