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When a woman becomes a biker, she undergoes a change in her way of thinking. Reading numerous bottles of shampoo, wrinkle creams and many fashion magazines has taught us to speak in a seemingly foreign language to many men. Ask a guy what alpha hydroxy means and hell think you are talking about a space shuttle mission. Mention collagen and he might think youre talking about going back to school. However, when a woman becomes a biker it begins to bridge the communication gap between the sexes.
Wisely, men know better than to discuss female issues with their partners. Gentlemen, you will be happy to know that once your lady gets a bike, things will change for the better. When she now talks of her “cycle,” she means her bike. “That time of the month” means the weather is perfect for riding. Prior to the monthly visit we no longer “pig out” we “hog out.” Midol is no longer the go-to remedy for cramps. Biker women can ask a guy for an Advil and he has cramps too, from long stretches of holding the throttle.
“Exfoliating” is a practice associated with skin care. Cleansers that are infused with grainy pieces of ground up apricot pits, for instance, are used to buff away dead skin cells and leave us with a glowing, debris-free complexion. A more intense version is a costly procedure called “dermabrasion” that is applied like a mini- sandblaster by a dermatologist, sloughing away not only dead skin cells, but fine lines, wrinkles and discolorations. I no longer see the sense in paying someone to give my face “road rash.” Id rather have glowing chrome than glowing skin.
I have stopped eating grainy, chalky, soy-infused bricks in order to increase my protein intake. I simply smile and the bugs each give me about 10 grams of protein.
When I am due for a “touch-up” I am not talking about my roots, I am talking about a bottle of Pig Snot, a rag and lots of elbow grease.
In my world, saddlebags are a good thing. I need them for storage.
Moisturizer is simply called “rain.”
“Eye shadow” = sunglasses.
Gloss is not sticky stuff to make my mouth look alluring, its clear coat that protects the paint on my ride.
A “run” is no longer a nuisance that has ruined my 100th pair of pantyhose.
When I buy a new clutch, it isnt a purse for a formal event.
When I say, “I left it on the dresser,” I am not talking about my bureau.
Being “fashionably late” now means being “left behind.”
“Cleaning out my wallet” used to mean throwing out crumpled receipts, cutting up credit cards and folding my money. Nowadays, it simply means a visit to the dealership.
Yes, I may be young, but I have definitely gone through the change of life. I now own a Harley.
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