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K N < E K P $ K ? I < < My Bronze Uterus Well I loved having the children, as I said, but years passed and the pain of my monthly periods was getting to be too much. I hated every bit of that part of being a girl. I never saw anything joyous in it. I had a bronze sculpture of my uterus made from a picture of the real thing—after I got it out, of course!—because I was so glad to get rid of that son of a gun! In fact I was thinking of putting a photo of it on the cover of this book. It looked like a bronze pear. And we could draw a neck on it, like a banjo neck. The picture would be sort of a symbol of my lives—my professional life and my personal life! Well I took my bronze uterus into the dressing room at Hee Haw. All the girls gathered around. “Here’s my uterus, girls,” I said. “I had it bronzed.” They gasped. “Did you really?!!!” “Roni, I can’t believe it!” “Now don’t tell anybody else I showed you this,” I said. “Don’t tell My Bronze Uterus pressing on / 171 any of the men. Just you girls can see it. I feel so much better it’s out. I’m having the best time. I’m going to grow into a real woman now!” And I mugged my “real woman” sexy face. Next thing you know, I’m walking down the hall, and Roy Clark says, “Ronald J., come here. I want to ask you something.” So I went over. “Ah . . . um . . .” He was having trouble getting the words out: “Do you . . . do you have a . . . a bronze uterus?” “Who told you?” “Uhh . . .” “The girls were not supposed to tell anyone.” “Can I see it?” “It’s in my overnight case.” “Well, go and get it.” So I brought it to him. “Here it is,” I said. And, again, there was a whole crowd gathering around. Roy stared at it. “I’m supposed to do the Tonight Show,” he said. “I want to take it on with me.” “My uterus don’t go anywhere without me. You gotta take me with you.” He frowned. “Don’t think I can do that.” “Well, you can’t take my bronze uterus. You might lose it.” “I’ll wear it around my neck.” “My uterus is much too heavy to wear around your neck, boy!” ...

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