• When other women start talking about “down there,” I start getting confused, and I’m not even three years old! Some call it your privates. Others tell me they are referring to the carpet as opposed to the drapes. Even Oprah tells us it’s a va jay jay. Honestly, I don’t want anyone saluting my privates, getting out the Hoover for my carpet, or comparing any part of my anatomy to some children’s airplane cartoon character.

    Why do we always have such an issue with calling a spade a spade? If it’s in the deck of cards, and it’s not a club, a diamond, or a heart, it’s a spade. See, was that so difficult? So why on earth do we have to use so many euphemisms for everything else? Why can’t a person just die? Not that I want anyone to die, but when they do, can’t they just be dead? Why do we always have to say they’ve passed away, or they’ve gone to a better place? We are confusing the children of America by doing this. The three year olds have started to tell us that they don’t want to go to school today. They want to go to a better place.

    Then of course we move on to the opposite end of the female body. You know, the boobs, the girls, the tee tas. We spend a fortune on these things. We buy bras to push them up, bras to minimize, and bras to lift and separate. But God forbid we say the word that actually goes into these expensive contraptions. Why is it that we can’t just call them what they are? It’s getting ridiculous. Do you know that in most school library’s today, they have blocks on the internet so that kids can’t even look up a recipe for chicken breasts? Oh my God, I said it: breasts.

    Years ago, my dad had a secretary who told him of the time her three year old granddaughter came to spend the night. The only other woman the child had ever seen naked was her mother. When the grandma went to take a bath and removed all her clothing, the little girl asked her a simple question. She pointed to the upper half of her grandmother’s body and said “grandma, are your breasts dead?”

    Let the three year olds of America unite! Let free speech reign. Let’s put death, vaginas and breasts back into the English language.

    Do you have any pet peeves about language?  We’d all love to know. Make your comments below.

    by: Leslie Handler

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    Article by: Leslie Handler

    Leslie is a freelance essayist for Newsworks of Philadelphia and a blogger for The Huffington Post. She has a Bachelor of Journalism degree and currently is living in Fairless Hills, PA with husband Marty, dogs Maggie and Hazel, a collection of fish, said husband's cockatoo whom she has been trying to roast for dinner for the last 28 years, and a few occasional uninvited guests.

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