innie or outie.. shake it all aboutie..

I woke up in a panic this morning, sweat dripping down my cleavage after another scary midlife crisis nightmare.. my vagina (aka Fifi) had turned from a lush little innie into a slightly saggy, angry looking outie!

Luckily it was just a dream. I quickly gave her a thorough once over and MOT and all is well.. but it has made me think, and realise that age can play horrific tricks on the female body. I am going to take better care of my lovely little Fifi and keep her happy and maintained for as long as possible, treating her to bubble baths and pelvic flooring morning, noon and night.. before gravity plays it's unfair hand and ruins her for life.. especially as I am currently single and on the lookout for a penis to cohabitate with her. Maybe I had better find one even quicker than I had already planned? Maybe this was a warning call? I now fear that any prospective penis may end up sucked up into oblivion with the extra suction power.. followed by the rest of the man attached to the said penis.

As if us women do not have enough deal with as we get older.

I did not think I had any real regrets, but after seeing the state that Fifi had got herself into in my nightmare I now realise that I really should have listened to Jane Fonda and exercised my pelvic floor muscles every day without fail. Not only would Fifi stay tight and lush, but I would also be able to jump on trampolines, or even sneeze whilst standing up without needing twenty Tena ladies stuffed down my knickers.

It has made me think of some of my other little regrets too:

Maybe I should have run off to Wales with that magazine editor, but I had to turn him down as I could see that he was a secret closet queen, and I really could not compete with someone that would look better than me in my clothes.. and probably end up with a tighter vagina than mine.

I never should have let my pierced ears close up, as now every time I want to look nice and wear a bit of jewellery it looks like a chainsaw massacre scene in my bathroom. Total ear carnage!

I should have jumped on at least one member of Take That when I bumped into them in a hotel lobby twenty odd years ago. I could now be living in a villa somewhere, sat by the pool living off the divorce settlement.. listening to Westlife.

I should never have eaten the entire packet of chocolate digestives last night as they seem to have taken up residency on my arse.

Well no one can worry about what they should or should not have done. The magazine editor is probably married to a nice bloke with cat tattoos and a smaller arse than mine. My ears will be back to normal once I hammer a nail through them. I'm sure my arse will one day be smaller than Kim Kardashian's, especially if I win the lottery and bulk buy sessions of liposuction, and with any luck Fifi will hold on for a few more years, before ending up down by my knees, along with my boobs.

Fifi is the girl she is today because of the life she has lead, and so am I! She should be holding her head up high, proud and ready for the future, and so should I! She is all woman, and so am I! And we ready for any penis that is man enough to take us on!