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The seventies were a tangerine sunrise for women like me, even women unlike me. We felt unblinded. Our super eyes saw through walls and clothing. We were suddenly sisters, sisters in every town and mountaintop and polluted valley. Oh, we were often silly. There was such pressure to discard bras my 38Ds flapped loose, wriggling like fat puppies under my regulation drab. But readings overflowed with hungry women eating words like chocolate cookies, drinking words like red ...