First, this thread:

People are not even speaking the same language in this thread. If you leave out those people whose main reason for saying the Kitty woman's t-shirt was inappropriate was because they thought the office environment has become to casual, and you only look at those responders who thought Kitty meant cat or cartoon character vs. those who thought it mean Pussy and was some sort of sexual signal, it seems to me that most women had the cat view while most men had the pussy view.

I could be wrong. It is difficult to know for certain as some people's user names (like mine) do not reveal their sex.

This is a discouraging thought. It basically means that men and women really do speak to separate languages. If I speak English and I want to understand someone speaking Cantonese, I can hire an interpreter. However, if I speak English and he speaks English but we both mean entirely different things then no interpreter is going to help.

Next the fishman:

I went to the grocery this morning. On my list was fish. As the fishman wrapped up my catfish he said, "There you go baby," and he winked at me. What on earth does this mean? I am over fifty. The fishman is at least over forty. Why the hell was he calling me baby and winking at me? It is true I do live in a town that could be characterized as part of The South and people (mostly women) seem to "Honey" you a lot, but BABY?

So I went home and looked in the mirror. I was wearing a beige t-shirt and underneath I was wearing a beige bra but I was pretty well covered. I looked front. I looked left. I looked right. I became more puzzled. I was wearing breasts. I have had them since I was 13 and they are much larger than they used to be but only somewhat in the same place. I concluded that they were in better shape than my knees, which were covered by a pair of chambray "jeans." To my eyes, nothing about me looked come hither.

Life is bizzare, isn't it. I am not the least bit attracted to the fishman, and decided that his wink and his "Baby" meant nothing. After all, I am over fifty.

However, then I hit upon what seems to be the only sensible idea for a woman my age. I decided to give up men. Here's why:

1. I am not domestic. It is true that I can make a mean bowl of chili and that I can sew a straight seam, but I cannot clean worth a damn. Around me are papers piled everywhere, the kitchen sink has dishes in it, and the dog hair on the rug needs a good vacuum. Since most straight men are not especially domestic either, why add chaos to chaos.

2. I put on a t-shirt and jeans (and no makeup) to go to the market because I don't give a damn how I look when I go to get groceries. If I was going to a ladies' lunch, I would take infinte care. If I was going on a date, I would spruce up a bit. If, at my age, one comment by one fishman, can have me feeling self-conscious and looking in the mirror and wonder what signals I am sending out -- well, I just don't want to deal with it.

3. Men don't speak my language. They just don't. A cartoon kitty is a cartoon kitty. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. I am so worn out trying to explain this to people in this thread, that I am actually thinking of giving up Salon as well as men. After all, if this is where the enlightened guys are think what most ordinary men are like.

In any case, when I go shopping, I am still taking my breasts with me. Where I go, they go.

Thanks for doing the math.

For someone with something like PTSD, eight visits per year is a joke. For someone with something like major depression with suicidal "ideation," eight visits per year is a suicide just waiting to happen.

For families that have to deal with the mental problems of returning servicemen and women, eight visits per year is divorces waiting to happen, acting out that may result in spousal or child abuse, and eight visits per year is a whole lot of tears for people who have made serious sacrifices.

For a nation that must bind up these wounds, eight visits per year will mean the need for more addiction treatment centers, more disabled employment services, more homeless shelters, and, sometimes it will mean more people on the streets holding signs that will read "Iraq War Vet."

We and they, will be paying for this travesty of a war for the rest of our lives.