I can honestly say that I have never met a woman going through a midlife crisis who has the urge to trade in her mini-van for a Corvette. We tend to make midlife splurges on high power shape wear, department store anti-aging cream and for the especially brave and vain, Botox.
Menopause brings with it a lower libido so why in the world would we want to drive a penis?
Who wants to smash their reading glasses into the top of their head while crouching into the car? Our minds can’t afford to get any foggier.
It’s hard to look sexy while catching your ass on the outside of the car while trying to gingerly lower yourself into the driver’s seat – eventually dropping down like a lead balloon while your hormone induced saggy cleavage creates an airbag effect leaving you unable to look out of windshield.
Nostalgic about Prince’s song, Little Red Corvette? Think again, after child-birth our little red corvettes have grown into slate gray pick-up trucks with no pick-up.
Where would the children sit? Where would the children’s friends sit?
You would need a bullhorn to reach up to the fast food drive thru speaker.
How would we get the grocerys home?
If you get pulled over for speeding, you wouldn’t be able to get out of the car fast enough, then you would get arrested for resisting arrest.
That’s why midlife women don’t drive Corvettes.
© 2012 Terri Spilman