Women's Lib

I’ve never been what you’d call an ardent feminist. I have yet to chain myself to any major government building and I’d certainly hate to contemplate going through life avoiding men.

However, after years of trying to coax my figure back to an approximation of my golden youth, I’m beginning to feel particularly grateful to the Women’s Liberation Movement. It’s due entirely to their efforts that I’ve been getting back in shape.

Everyone talks about women's demands for equal pay. They never mention the fact that the new feminist movement is achieving what years of dieting never could. It’s giving me back my girlish figure.

Take the simple matter of arm exercises. No matter how often I swatted my children’s rear ends, the muscles in my arms were definitely beginning to flab. That’s because I used stand idly by, watching muscular men open doors for me. Now, thanks to the feminist movement, I’m opening my own doors and, in the process, developing beautifully firm arms and shoulders.

The same thing is happening to the rest of my figure. Since I’m no longer offered a seat on the bus, I’ve begun to lose inches around my waist and hips from the exercise I get swaying from straps, to say nothing of the eagle eye and fast reflexes I’ve developed racing all those men to empty seats.

Even my husband has gotten into the spirit of the thing. He never lets me off at the door of the theater any more, but drives blocks out of our way looking for a free parking space. Naturally, this makes us late for the opening, but jogging the two miles back is the best thing I can think of (outside the cinder track at the Y) for achieving aerobic fitness, unless I happen to be wearing sling-back pumps, in which case I spend the evening in the hospital x-raying my ankles.

Also, my husband never leaves enough room for my car in our garage, so the exercise I give my torso turning and twisting that steering wheel back and forth (not to mention the workout I give my facial muscles with all that cursing and gnashing of teeth) is something that’d cost me a fortune at the local gym.

I pull out my own chair and seat myself at the table when we go out to restaurants—just the thing for trimming the thighs and buttocks. I carry my own bags when we travel, perfect for strengthening my lower back. And because my arms are full, pushing open all those doors with my backside is really helping to firm up my gluteus to the maximus.

And to think I owe it all to Women’s Lib. I’m so darn grateful, just as soon as the doctor says I can get out of bed, I’m really going to show my appreciation.

Now, where did I put that bra I wanted to burn?