[WomenMoveMe]

Trixie Muldoon was madder than a three-legged pufferfish at a bingo hall. Ever since she had applied for lead pole-dancer at “Poonanny’s” and told to hit the bricks, she was obsessed with what had gone wrong.

So what if her wrinkled face looked like a map to a vacation spot where no one wanted to go. So what if her once perky 44DD’s were now 68 Longs. So what if she had slid down the pole eight inches before her lagging labia joined the rest of her. No, she didn’t think that was what did her in. She racked her brain. She thought she had prepared so well. She had worn her favorite leopard skin thigh high boots, her tiger stripe daisy dukes, and a gold lame` poncho. Her three-tone hair, that transitioned from a sorta mandarin orange at the ends to a kinda tangerinish-salmon in the middle to a blondish-gray at the crown, had never been closer to God as it was that day. She knew she had indeed been a vision. And even being a three pack-a-day smoker for more than 35 years, she was proud to have danced for a whole fifteen seconds before crashing to the floor in a wheezing heap that would have been rivaled only by a grand mal seizure. At least she didn't wet herself this time. No, it was none of those things that had caused her failure. She knew she had looked good and been supremely prepared. She just didn’t get it. It couldn’t be that she was 73 years old could it? Yep...that was it…damn ageists!