Remember last year, when I was totally pissed off about turning forty and all kinds of people were trying to appease me by saying stupid shit that only made me want to stab said random people in the neck? Click here if you need a refresher.
Yeah, well get this shit.
Yesterday, I'm spread eagle on the exam table at my gynecologist's office and the doctor is performing my annual
hoo-ha exam (A.K.A. vajayjay/coochie/pippee area).
Just when I think he's all done PROBING, he says to me in his Oprah Winfrey You Get A Car Voice, "And because you're FORTY, YOU GET A RECTAL!"
In response, I rolled my eyes, gave him two thumbs up, and said, "YAY ME!"
BOO for getting older, people.
And you know what else?
Last year, I was thirty-nine.
That meant, no ass probe.
That means from now on, when I go to the Gynee---it's equal opportunity for the vajayjay AND the bumhole. Hoo-Friggin-Ray!
But at least I can say that I'm right...AGAIN.
Because all of that crap about forty being the new thirty? Total fuggin bullshit, people.
In Sally's world, it's more like FORTY IS THE NEW THIRTY...WITH TWO FINGERS UP YOUR ASS.