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As I high-heeled my way into church this afternoon, I felt my fantastic pageboy dress and smart brown wedges melt away, along with my appendages, and all other kinds of human characteristics, as I transitioned into my role as a side of ham, laying, docile and frosty, in the display case of the deli at the local Albertsons's. Male customers were circling me, peering at me, and tapping their fingers on the handles of their grocery carts, as they surveyed me and the other assorted meats and fishes laying in the display case alongside. They thought about what they'd like to have for dinner tonight, maybe that nice juicy roast beef next weekend, that sophisticated cocktail shrimp platter for a party they're having on Thursday, or some practical, lean hamburger to freeze for the family reunion barbecue in October. I was visually probed, prodded, poked, thumped, smelt, and inspected in every way to see if I was a sound fit for their upcoming occasion--this occasion, of course, being that of eternal marriage.
Apparently, last fall, the BYU 70th ward was about 70% male and 30% female. This year, they wanted to even it out by adding a gaggle of girls from my apartment complex to the male pool. I am a part of this gaggle. I have been tipped into this pool. Luckily, the pool seems to be about 80% attractive. Today I met Attractive Collin, Attractive Brenden, Attractive Christian, and became the new ward organist. It's been a very eventful afternoon.
(*Lanee likes to call it the Mormon Meat Market)
2 comments:
Well, at least they're attractive. The last singles thing I went to was for people age 27 to a million, and the only attractive men there were FAR too old for me (like, in their 50s) and the whole thing was far too creepy. I don't think you could pay me to go back to a singles ward...
so i have to join the meat market- but i have no ward- do you think yours will take me in?
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