I feel good about my neck.

I feel pgood about my neck. At least it isn’t broken and I don’t have a husband ringing it. My neck supports my head. My neck is 55 years old and it still looks like a neck and not a tumor. It has served me well. I just browsed through the bestselling book “I Feel Bad About My Neck” and it should be stripped from the shelves. Just the title alone should warrant a citizen’s arrest. Listen,  Lady: It is time for your neck to relax. It is time for our daughter’s necks to be wrapped in pearls. Twenty years ago, or thirty, we had necks that looked new. They WERE quite new. Now our necks are older. Go ahead and feel bad about your neck. I am going to feel good about my neck. I have become quite attached to it. I suppose your husband or agent or best friend are not completely satisfied with your neck. Your stylist suggests turtlenecks, Elizabethan collars, the versatile magic of a rubber scarf. Now tell me, how has your neck changed your life recently? Do you seriously believe that you are not getting laid because of your neck? Or you’re being overcharged for foodstuffs, car repairs, appliances? Do you feel that if you had a firm neck you would have more of something, anything, anywhere? Do you want to actually sleep with a man who looks at your neck? Do you look at HIS neck? No, you check his collar for lipstick. One thing I’ve learned as I grow older. If you were a young beautiful woman you will be a middle-aged and decrepidly beautiful woman, and a nice looking corpse. Your neck, sagging beautifully, on schedule, readying itself for walks in the park with the grandchildren, a flask of brandy hidden in the baby carriage, and as you look down at the babies flawless, firm, glowing face and neck, your double chin will puff out and the baby may try to take hold of it and squeeze it. And that’s what it’s for. That’s why I feel good about my neck.  NOTICE: NORA EPHRON DIED. SHE DOES NOT FEEL BAD ABOUT HER NECK NOW.

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