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Humor February 2018

Agelessly Yours

A Tale of Two Harveys

By Karen White-Walker

One look at my abdomen with those purplish blue stretch marks, an earthworm-looking scar on my left side, a souvenir from my appendectomy, and two floppy breasts that are long enough to be tucked into my sexy white cotton high-waisted briefs – and old Harvey would have been traumatized for life!

"Some subjects are so serious that one can only joke about it." — physicist Niels Bohr

In just three days I've stuffed into this big mouth two heaping cups of flour, one cup plus one tablespoon of sugar, a dash of salt and one cup of shortening. Add to that 10 succulent apples, cinnamon, and a tad of butter and that's another way of saying that I ate the whole stinkin' luscious pie. Forgive me, Father, for I am nothing but a glutton. Then what did I do? I hopped on the scale and was shocked, I tell ya shocked, that I had gained four pounds!

But what's an old gal to do? It's been a hellish last several months. I mean, how can a columnist even BEGIN to put a humorous spin on things when everything around her screams heartache and heartburn? First there was Houston's Harvey that they're now calling The Thousand-Year Flood, the uncontrollable California fires, the massacres in both Las Vegas, Nevada, and Sutherland, Texas, a terrorist attack in NYC, and even another Harvey, a destructive force of a different nature — a predator who used his high fallutin' position to intimidate, threaten and, God only knows what else, to seduce scores of women.

At one time he lived in my area and if only ONCE he had come knocking on my bedroom door, his libido level would have dropped to zero, guaranteed, and all those frightened women would have been spared. For you see, from the neck up I've been told I'm still a pretty woman — for my age. That's what people do, you know, they always add a little something — at the end.

But it's surprising how all the tears I've shed over the many decades of life haven't watered-down the vibrant blue of my eyes. I still have sun-kissed blonde hair, a bronze-colored complexion and sparkling white teeth, thanks to a little help from my friends – Clairol hair coloring, L'Oreal's tinted self tanning luminous formula and Colgate Optic White toothpaste. I tell ya, if there's one thing I strongly believe in as we women age, it's that we must remain true NATURAL beauties.

"I just might have been bait for Harvey back in Buffalo, New York," I confided to my sister Mary. "If I knew then what I know now about the creep, I would have offered myself up like a 'sacrificial lamb,' a sheep going to slaughter, because he would be expecting one thing and getting another."

"Why do you always do that?" she asked. "You always want to play the martyr." She's a licensed counselor who is always offering me unsolicited advice. It's free of charge, so what an ingrate I am to complain, but I kinda resent when she puts me on the defensive.

"I'm the only one of us five siblings who opted to go to a parochial school, what do you expect? Gladly I would have given of myself if that would have finished his prowling for other women and, at the same time, earning me indulgences toward knocking off many of my years rotting in Purgatory. That would be making me only HALF a martyr."

"I remember how one Halloween you dressed up as Mother Teresa."

"I was Sister Ignatius," I indignantly corrected her.

"Don't you mean Sister Indulgence?" She sarcastically and laughingly came back with. "Oh those saints, they all look alike, anyway."

Look alike? Not all disrobed women do," I thought to myself. One look at my abdomen with those purplish blue stretch marks, an earthworm-looking scar on my left side, a souvenir from my appendectomy, and two floppy breasts that are long enough to be tucked into my sexy white cotton high-waisted briefs – and old Harvey would have been traumatized for life! No nothing' under those sheets for THAT guy!. Instead he traumatized so many others, but now all those women stand united. Stand, I don't even want to get started about that one and well, just think football.
    I ask you, in today's weary world, where's the hope and humor? All around us, I pray.

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