The Revolution Will Be Fueled by Fibergummies

The Hussy ponders a few things.

That Shameless Hussy

I don’t even know what the fuck that means.

I was scrolling Facebook last week before bed, and chasing my blood pressure and cholesterol meds with my usual bedtime snack of three fibergummies: an amber one and two dark red ones whose actual flavors elude me, when that phrase floated through my brain, right on the heels of realizing that it was goddamn Thursday again and I hadn’t written fuckall and also it was my half-birthday. In six months I will be 30 45 none of your damn business.

I don’t want to write about being old and irrelevant. I did not study for that, I studied for “I’m Feisty For My Age,” fist raised in a one-finger salute to the notion that fifty shouldn’t have to be the new thirty and we should all stop trying to conform to an unreasonable standard of beauty and I, for one, was not going to let anyone…

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