On Frozen Cellulite! "WHERE ARE MY STRAWBERRIES?'

Nine strawberries came from the garden today.  Seven or eight had come off the plants on other days and I had squirrilly stored them away to boil for jam when I have enough.  My own "homegrown jam!".  I will be a woman, after all!

I carried my huge bounty into my, dishevelled morning kitchen and opened my enormous freezer, now perfectly organized by my sweet sixteen year old.  :)  { as organized as a teen can make it}  I reached in my usual spot to find my store.  Maybe seventeen strawberries, I had grown;  Maybe eighteen whole strawberries from MY garden.  An achievement for me, {if you knew me!}  Not there?  Not on the shelves, Not on the door!  I am sure, I felt my father well up inside my soul.  This is another "hammer-like dilemma".   I called a "courtmarshall".   Where are my strawberries?  I bellowed,  as gently as my steaming emotions would allow.  
Well, I am sure that this preface of the situation has jarred your memory to the incident that I am referring to.  You and I have it in memory.  You and I looked eye to eye and disagreed at the magnitude of this event. 
My mom and I had an incident with a plant in the window and my dad and I with a hammer misplaced by someone in the family. 
I have now seen, just today that these things were significant to them because they represented their adulthood to them.   They were certainly young parents and I an elderly one, but mine represents my pursuit of feminity. An illusive thing, but, significant.   Your feminity is not ever pursued, you posess it in your self, it seems.   Mine are in the strawberries.  As I replace the items from the freezer that you submissively extracted, I explain my tyrade.  I do not apologize for the tyrade, although it may have seemed overkill to you.  I explain it, though.

You, just may have wondered at my exaggerated expression.  Here you have the explanation, should you read it someday.