Amy Hartl Sherman is a freelance writer, poet and humorist. A graduate from the University of Illlinois, a retired flight attendant, improv comedian, empty-nester and overall nobody, Amy writes erratically as opposed to erotically, and sometimes humorously, while living with her husband, one fat cat, and a co-dependent Dachshund. Her sons escaped unscathed.All posts from Amy Sherman
Women are unfairly judged for aging and that is a damn shame. That being said, I am fascinated by desperate women who can’t face the natural order of things. They do everything in their power, along with science, surgery and Satan to stop it. My favorite example of this is Madonna. I love a good a freak show.
Who doesn’t admire a living person who can star in the museum exhibit of cadavers that are preserved to show the inner workings of every muscle, organ and blood vessel? ‘Creepy’ is the new fifty.
Madonna is so proud of her physique, she parades it on stage with abandon. Too bad she abandoned looking in a mirror.
Her recent display of butt droop hanging down the backside of her thigh is my greatest treasure. I’m embarrassed to admit how much time I have spent studying this picture.
I imagine the rolling heads when she saw her photo and began screaming: “Why didn’t any of you f’n morons tell me what I looked like from behind? And where is my soon-to-be ex costume designer? You’re all f’n fired, you ASSHOLES! I am f’n MADONNA! You can all kiss my flabulous ass on the way out!”
It delights me to no end, that someone as desperate to look hot as Madonna is, pulls the biggest MaDON’T in a live show. Her latest ‘assgaff’ is worthy of The People of Walmart photo site. The Empress Wore No Shame should be her next children’s book.
Having just celebrated my fifty-seventh birthday, I am tuned in to what women my age look like. I’m all for trying to look current, but dressing like a barely legal lingerie model is not sexy at this stage of life. I don’t care how in shape a woman is, when she’s past fifty, she’s PAST exposing herself. There is, and always will be, a difference between a fit twenty-five-year-old and a fit fifty-five-year-old. Allow me to introduce you to ‘juicy’ versus ‘jarring.’
I’m taking it upon myself to show this diva cougar how to dress her age. She’s a mother for God’s sake. It’s time for her daughter to shine. Madge should encourage her by offering words of wisdom while passing the torch before her flickering flame has been surgically manipulated into an LED flashlight that is bright, harsh and totally unrealistic. Let people remember you for the hottie you were, instead of the tortured ‘nottie’ you’ve twisted yourself into.
Why’s it so hard to move on, Madonna? You’re not even close to being like a virgin, your mental health is borderline, and you need to learn to express yourself without exposing your privates in public.
For crying out loud, show more class than ass!