Is My Secret Out?

I think I just wet my pants. And, no, not because I’m now at the age where I wear diapers, but because it’s just too darn funny that there are people out there that think I do. Or at the very least think that at my age, I have some major issues with my girly (now turned granny) parts.

 Just prior to penning this, I sat down to do some online banking and thought it might be nice to listen to some music on Pandora, that free internet music site. It made me register my name and email address, choose a password, and asked for my sex and my age. There was a small highlighted “why?” underneath the boxes for sex and age. I clicked on the “why,” and the explanation was that it allowed appropriate advertising to my sex and age group.

I chose my music preference—Smooth Jazz—and clicked the icon to start. The sultry sounds of Norman Brown and the words of That’s the Way Love Goes fill the room, and suddenly the screen blares the words: YOUR DRY VAGINA, in huge font size to the right of the Pandora screen—an advertisement for my sex and age apparently. It then fades to other less-than-complimentary words about the condition of my vagina, and finally to a picture of the product, some vaginal ring that releases estrogen inside your hoo haw.

I have no idea what advertised products followed, and I hate to guess. And Lord only knows what it would have given me if I entered my age as 65! Nursing homes? Dementia medication? Funeral homes? I shudder to think.