I totally reject the S word.

That’s the one that gets you discounts at a certain age, by virtue of having attained that age. And with it comes various labels, including the S word.

No, thank you. Keep your discounts if it means labelling me with words that just don’t fit — yet. Maybe in 20 years from now . . .

True, I have probably written about this here before. But there is a bit more to report this time.

There I was at the bank yesterday when the teller showed me something about my account on her computer — and I spied the S word accompanying my bank plan type. Like it or not, the bank applies age labels to its customers, I learned, even if in today’s world people are staying youthful longer and the labels of, say, the 1950s are terribly outdated now.

But the bank and other institutions could probably make more money if they let their customers decide when it is time to be applying S labels and such instead of arbitrarily picking an age and applying it willy nilly.

I mean, I’m still working, I’m not pension age — and personally speaking, I have the estrogen levels of a young woman (I take estrogen) and I have been taking an organic HgH product for years.

That was part of what went through my mind after my bank session yesterday, and I might have shrugged it off and forgotten about it. But when I got home, I came across an article online about representatives of the porn film industry in L.A. showing up to speak at a hearing into safety issues. The actors don’t want to wear condoms and safety goggles and such because they fear such devices will turn viewers off.

I’m not sure how my brain processed the connections then, but I found myself thinking: “I’ve still got it . . . I could be a porn actress . . .”

So, I set about proving I still have it by dressing accordingly — which pleased my significant other very much.

“You look like a hooker,” she exclaimed, adding: “You look hot!”

Exactly!

That was the point of the whole exercise. I can still look like a hooker, if I want to. And I could be one, if I wanted to — though, I prefer to be a dominatrix because it is less hazardous to one’s health since there is no sexual contact.

I was tempted to put photos up on my Facebook page, showing everyone I can still look like a hooker — and how insecure the bank made me feel.

No matter: I had my moments of self-affirmation, and I’m feeling better about myself now. And I better understand today why women decades older than me still feel the need to put on makeup and lip colouring — especially lip colouring — before they venture out into the world.

And let’s be honest about this: with the right clothes and boots, ANYONE can look like a hooker.

And everyone can look like a porn star, if they want, because like that Sly and the Family Stone song said, “Everybody IS a star.”

As illustrated by the selfie I took yesterday in my boots, mini-skirt and holding a feathery flogger:

pic2

Cheers

— Jillian