Granny’s life hacks – nicknames
Okay you horrible lot, listen up. Granny is about to impart knowledge.
If you are a married lady of a certain age, look across the room and consider your significant other. How does he appear?
Dashing, debonair and handsome
Rough, tough and dangerous
Slightly grubby and with jam on his vest
Tidily harmless in his cardigan and carpet slippers
If he is any of the first three it’s an even bet you don’t call him your ‘hubby’….
Also for ladies who should be old enough to know better. What do you refer to your lady bits as?
If it’s any of the first three you probably still have a sex life….
Are you beginning to catch my drift here? What we call things matters.
If you call a man ‘hubby’ he will grow into the neutered tom cat smugness the word suggests.
If you really do call your fanny a ‘front bottom’ the chances of it ever getting a visitor diminish with the years as the terminology becomes more and more at odds with the age and the experience of the speaker.
My late husband – god rest his OCD little soul – once referred to me as the little woman, and wondered why I didn’t come across for a month. Although I am certainly a woman, I am far from being little and the term is pejorative in the extreme. It is like so many words used about women, being designed to remind the ‘fair sex’ of its position in society.
So let’s strip the cute nicknames bare, shall we?
Fur baby. Nope. It’s a cat or a dog or whatever. It is not a baby. Gyp is a dog and he is my best mate (except when he barfs on the floor). I would no more call him a ‘fur baby’ than buy him a pink coat and have his toenails painted. He needs to be allowed to be a dog.
Your tiny daughter has baby fat in bracelets around her wrists. You decide to call her ‘chubbykins’. She has body image issues for the rest of her life.
And so on.
Words have power.
So please stop fecking about.
And if you want to neuter the old man send him to the vet. It’s quicker and more dignified