Virginal reunion

Still thinking about the reunion. I have given myself till today to decide. Because I thought it was going to be on the 8th of June, now I realise it's the 8th of May. Trust me to mix something like that up. Not because I'm stupid mind you. It's because my mind is taken up with things so much superior that it doesn't register trivial other things. My mine is a royal mind, just as the rest of me is a royal rest of me. I am convinced that there is blue blood running in there and it's not because of being a nazzjonalista or ex nazzjonalista either. Geeze if my dad saw this he'd have a heart attack, so consumed by politics. What I am hating about this reunion. Firstly why has nobody kept her maiden name? Why is it all a conjoined two surname thing? Heyyyy didn't we want to be equal? Or are we just a bunch of slobby women with a heat inside so high that we want to be owned? I will always keep my Chetcuti, even when I grow up and get married to a million men. Chetcuti stays. And it will never be a something-Chetcuti. Oh no, it will stay put and that is what my headstone will read. When I grow up and have babies there is no way I am putting an announcement in The Times of Malta reading, AnnMarie nee` Chetcuti bla bla bla. It will read AnnMarie Chetcuti. No nee`. It is pointless to change my name if it's not going to be Pitt or Noth. Chris Noth... oh God that man has me helpless. Really really helpless. That is why I watch re-runs and re-runs of Sex and the City... just to see Mr. Big and feel 16 again. No man on this planet has ever had me helpless like that. And yes I'd change my name for him because I'd love to be owned by him. Which is a mystery seeing that I don't exactly qualify for slave material. But then that's why switches were invented. Back to reunion stuff. I guess I'll go for the sake of going, and I also guess I will make a quick exit. I do not want to talk about placentas. I've never had one so what I don't know will not hurt me. I do not want to talk about breastfeeding. My breasts are there to put on show, not for some tiny creature to suck on. And then again, if it were a big creature... I'd consider a re-think. I do not want to talk about lousy husbands either because I haven't got a husband let alone a lousy one. I have my Mister who is as attentive as ever, who can talk sense, a Mister whom I can cry and laugh with, one who thinks I'm Belle in Beauty in the Beast. Of course I don't let on that I'm not. Let him think I'm some Cleopatra beauty, it doesn't harm anybody. I may have no husband, but my surrogate husband never looks down on me, always up. Well of course that's excluding the bedroom stakes. So what will I have in common with my old class mates with their virginal ways of thinking? Probably not much. They may have had placentas and gone on with their breast feeding, but they will still qualify as virgins. A virgin is not as in a vagina-known-to-man, but as in a totally dirty, crude, uncouth, sexy mind. I've always wondered why it's called deflowering. I never had a flower there, and it doesn't prick like roses do, or go all over the place as lilies do. Nor does it turn around in search of the sun as sunflowers do or open and close depending on night and day as some other species do. Where is the flower? It's in virginal minds. There is no flower, at 35 I hope my classmates will have figured that out. Some won't have, not even after having borne some four kids. Some won't even have mastered the art of swallowing, because that is something good girls don't do. They probably wouldn't even have thought of it. Dear dear Lord, what am I to do? Go and put my one asset, which has not breastfeed little mouths on show? Go for five minutes and do a vanishing act? Not go at all? Thing is I think I want to go. I'm just not sure on how long I'll make my royal presence. So maybe I'll make my royal presence together with my royal royal breasts. Go on Rob, you do the same!