Skip to main content


Okay, sisters, this is how it goes.
I think I may have invented a new genre and you are on the cutting edge of it. It is going to require your cooperation.  Can I trust you not to weenie out on me?  You will be moving.  You will be talking.  You will be interacting with the print.
For lack of a better word, I have called this my karaoke column.  I played with the thought of calling it kamikaze columnizing, but decided to just show you and you can help me name this new invention later.
Okay, here we go.  Remember this will only work if you cooperate and participate.  Ready?
All the affirmations are in BOLD LETTERS.  Those are your parts. Participation is key.
Step one:  turn to the person closest to you and look that person straight in the eye.  Once you catch his or her attention (it might just be you in the mirror but that is okay), smile with confidence and say the following words, loudly and proudly: I’M A BOOMER.
Step two (do not be afraid):  Stand up, look about the room, daring anyone to look at you.  Shoulders back, deep breath, arms straight up and out, and say the following, loudly and proudly: I’M A BOOMER AND PROUD OF IT!
Good, good.  You have garnered attention now, sisters! Hang in there.  Remember, we lady boomers are the majority in this nation.  We rule.  We’re hot.  We got game (still).
Step three (the clincher): Still standing, throw your head back, find the goddess in you.  Run your fingers through your hair, feel your beauty, shiver slightly, and let whoever is in the room with you know who is the real boss.  Let out a moan, a groan, a primitive yell, and say the following, loudly and proudly, one more time:  I’M BEAUTIFUL.  I’M A BOOMER AND I AM PROUD OF IT!  (If you want to add a few spontaneous adjectives, hoots, primal yells, that is your business and it adds to the effectiveness of this affirmation.)
Now that you have filled the room with awe and wonder, smile wickedly at each and every person in the room, slowly sit down, smooth you clothes primly, and go back to what you were doing prior to this affirmation.
Very cutting edge, don’t you think?
I will feel you positive energy via the airwaves.  Our sisterly boomer moment will transcend time and space.  We will be one with the universe, the force, the space-time continuum.
Now, before we end, wet your lips, do one of those breathless thing we do that drive others crazy, and in a sultry voice, just to make sure we have made our point, say it with me: 


  1. hehehe love this. I'm not quite a boomer but I think I can find my inner-boomer with this exercise!

  2. Wrote this one ten years ago. I haven't changed much.


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Happy Breastday to Me!

I gave myself a very special birthday present this year – I had surgery. Before you think it was to increase, decrease, or “lift” something, let me tell you it was not cosmetic (though I could probably use a few nips and tucks at my age; the infinite number of creams I buy OTC are not working their promised magic). About four or five months ago, I discovered a hard lump about the size of a large marble in my left armpit.  I had been feeling small pangs of pain in my left chest for several months, but I figured it was just my turn to dance with heart disease.  Everyone in my immediate family is diabetic and suffers from strokes or heart attacks, so I thought – here we go; my turn. I was going to tell my internist about the pangs during my next visit, so imagine my surprise when I discovered the lump. The Drama Queen in me immediately manifested herself – cancer, I thought.  I have cancer. I searched some more and found that the texture on the left side of my left breast felt diffe

Dating Challenged

I stink at dating – always have.   I sputter.   I hyperventilate.   I fail miserably every time. I blame a pathetically underdeveloped gene that got little use before I married in my early twenties, then atrophied, gathering dust and rust, until I became single again in my fifties.   I decided to use this defect to my advantage when I needed to do some investigative reporting a few years back.   While on a newspaper writing assignment on Boomer-aged dating, I sacrificed my dignity and my vanity for the sake of the story (and I got several). Thank goodness, HoneyBunch saved me from all this when we married.  (He comes up with the best dates.) I’ve decided I will “show you mine if you show me yours.”   I will swap dating horror stories with you, but you have to promise to play along. The trick here is to tell about your worst date in 25 words or less.   You must keep it clean and you cannot name names. Our little contest will run only this week and before my next blogger posting.   Me

The Girl Who Eats Canned Spinach

I went to a Catholic elementary school run by strict Belgian nuns, and we could not leave the cafeteria until we ate everything served on our food tray. Once a week, they served warmed, canned spinach with our meal. The spinach tasted nothing like the way my grandmother made it, but I ate it. I gulped it down in three or four bites and it amazed my table mates. I told them we ate it at home so I was used to the taste. Now, my real problem began the day I ate the spinach off my friends’ trays so we could go play outside. As soon as the nun monitoring the cafeteria turned her back, my friends ate something off my tray I didn’t want, and I ate their serving of spinach. I only did it for two of my table mates, but the word spread.   On the next Spinach Day, kids followed me to my table.   I was suddenly very popular, and as soon as the nun marched off to the other end of the cafeteria, my friends and an army of others who only knew me as The Girl Who Eats Spinach, begged me to take