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I had prepared for it like any intelligent woman would. I went on a

starvation diet the day before, knowing that all the extra weight

would just melt off in 24 hours, leaving me with my sleek, trim,

high-school-girl body.

The last many years of careful cellulite collection would just be

gone with a snap of a finger. I knew if I didn't eat a morsel on

Friday, that I could probably fit into my senior formal on Saturday.

Trotting up to the attic, I pulled the gown out of the garment bag,

carried it lovingly downstairs, ran my hand over the fabric, and

hung it on the door. I stripped naked, looked in the mirror, sighed,

and thought, " Well, okay, maybe if I shift it all to the back... "

bodies never have pockets where you need them.

Bravely, I took the gown off the hanger, unzipped the shimmering

dress and stepped gingerly into it. I struggled, twisted, turned,

and pulled and I got the formal all the way up to my knees...before

the zipper gave out. I was disappointed. I wanted to wear that

dress with those silver platform sandals again and dance the night

away. Okay, one setback was not going to the mood for this affair.

No way! Rolling the dress into a ball and tossing it into the

corner, I turned to Plan B: the black velvet caftan.

I gathered up all the goodies that I had purchased at the drugstore,

the scented shower gel; the body building and highlighting shampoo &

conditioner, and the split_end killer and shine enhancer. Soon my

hair would look like that girl's in the Pantene ads.

Then the makeup - the under eye " ain't no lines here " firming cream,

the all-day face-lifting gravity-fighting moisturizer with wrinkle

filler spackle; the all day " kiss me till my lips bleed and see if

this gloss will come off " lipstick, the bronzing face powder for

that special glow... But first, the roll-on facial hair remover. I

could feel the wrinkles shuddering in fear.

OK - time to get ready...I jumped into the steaming shower, soaped,

lathered, rinsed, shaved, tweezed, buffed, scrubbed, and scoured my

body to a tingling pink. I plastered my freshly scrubbed face with

the anti wrinkle, gravity fighting, " your face will look like a

baby's butt " face cream. I set my hair on the hot rollers. I felt

wonderful. Ready to take on the world. Or in this instance, my

underwear. With the towel firmly wrapped around my glistening body,

I pulled out the black lace, tummy_tucking, cellulite_pushing, ham

hock_rounding girdle, and the matchin " lifting those bosoms like

they're filled with helium " bra.

I greased my body with the scented body lotion and began the plunge.

I pulled, stretched, tugged, hiked, folded, tucked, twisted,

shimmied, hopped, pushed, wiggled, snapped, shook, caterpillar

crawled, and kicked. Sweat poured off my forehead but I was done.

And it didn't look bad. So I rested. A well deserved rest, too. The

girdle was on my body. Bounce a quarter off my behind? It was

tighter than a trampoline. Can you say, " Rubber baby buggy bumper

butt? "

Okay, so I had to take baby steps, and walk sideways, and I couldn't

move from my butt cheeks to my knees. But, I was firm! Oh no...I

had to go to the bathroom. And there wasn't a snap crotch. From now

on, undies gotta have a snap crotch. I was ready to rip it open and

re-stitch the crotch with Velcro, but the pain factor from past

experiments was still fresh in my mind. I quickly side stepped to

the bathroom. An hour later, I had answered nature's call and

repeated the struggle into the girdle.

I was ready for the bra and remembered what the saleslady said to

do. I could see her glossed lips mouthing, " Do not fasten the bra

in the front, and twist it around. Put the bra on the way it should

be worn__straps over the shoulders. Then bend over and gently place

both breasts inside the cups. " Easy if you have four hands. But,

with confidence, I put my arms into the holsters, bent over and

pulled the bra down...but the boobs weren't cooperating. I'd no

sooner tuck one in a cup, and while placing the other, the first

would slip out. I needed a strategy. I bounced up and down a few

times, tried to dribble them in with short bunny hops, but that

didn't work. So, while bent over, I began rocking gently back and

forth on my heel and toes and I set 'em to swinging. Finally, on the

fourth swing, pause, and lift, I captured the gliding glands.

Quickly fastening the back of the bra, I stood up for examination.

Back straight, slightly arched, I turned and faced the mirror,

turning front, and then sideways. I smiled, " Yes, Houston, we have

lift up! " My breasts were high, firm and there was cleavage! I was

happy until I tried to look down. I had a chin rest and I couldn't

see my feet. I still had to put on my pantyhose, and shoes. Oh...why

did I buy heels with buckles? Then I had to pee again.

I put on my sweats, fixed myself a drink, ordered pizza, and skipped

the reunion.

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Share on other sites

Sounds like deja vue to me.

Aggie

Quoting Connolly :

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

> I had prepared for it like any intelligent woman would. I went on a

>

> starvation diet the day before, knowing that all the extra weight

>

> would just melt off in 24 hours, leaving me with my sleek, trim,

>

> high-school-girl body.

>

>

>

> The last many years of careful cellulite collection would just be

>

> gone with a snap of a finger. I knew if I didn't eat a morsel on

>

> Friday, that I could probably fit into my senior formal on Saturday.

>

> Trotting up to the attic, I pulled the gown out of the garment bag,

>

> carried it lovingly downstairs, ran my hand over the fabric, and

>

> hung it on the door. I stripped naked, looked in the mirror, sighed,

>

> and thought, " Well, okay, maybe if I shift it all to the back... "

>

> bodies never have pockets where you need them.

>

>

>

> Bravely, I took the gown off the hanger, unzipped the shimmering

>

> dress and stepped gingerly into it. I struggled, twisted, turned,

>

> and pulled and I got the formal all the way up to my knees...before

>

> the zipper gave out.  I was disappointed. I wanted to wear that

>

> dress with those silver platform sandals again and dance the night

>

> away. Okay, one setback was not going to the mood for this affair.

>

> No way! Rolling the dress into a ball and tossing it into the

>

> corner, I turned to Plan B: the black velvet caftan.

>

>

>

> I gathered up all the goodies that I had purchased at the drugstore,

>

> the scented shower gel; the body building and highlighting shampoo &

>

> conditioner, and the split_end killer and shine enhancer. Soon my

>

> hair would look like that girl's in the Pantene ads.

>

>

>

> Then the makeup - the under eye " ain't no lines here " firming cream,

>

> the all-day face-lifting gravity-fighting moisturizer with wrinkle

>

> filler spackle; the all day " kiss me till my lips bleed and see if

>

> this gloss will come off " lipstick, the bronzing face powder for

>

> that special glow... But first, the roll-on facial hair remover. I

>

> could feel the wrinkles shuddering in fear.

>

>

>

> OK - time to get ready...I jumped into the steaming shower, soaped,

>

> lathered, rinsed, shaved, tweezed, buffed, scrubbed, and scoured my

>

> body to a tingling pink.  I plastered my freshly scrubbed face with

>

> the anti wrinkle, gravity fighting, " your face will look like a

>

> baby's butt " face cream. I set my hair on the hot rollers.  I felt

>

> wonderful. Ready to take on the world. Or in this instance, my

>

> underwear.  With the towel firmly wrapped around my glistening body,

>

> I pulled out the black lace, tummy_tucking, cellulite_pushing, ham

>

> hock_rounding girdle, and the matchin " lifting those bosoms like

>

> they're filled with helium " bra.

>

>

>

> I greased my body with the scented body lotion and began the plunge.

>

> I pulled, stretched, tugged, hiked, folded, tucked, twisted,

>

> shimmied, hopped, pushed, wiggled, snapped, shook, caterpillar

>

> crawled, and kicked.  Sweat poured off my forehead but I was done.

>

> And it didn't look bad.  So I rested. A well deserved rest, too. The

>

> girdle was on my body. Bounce a quarter off my behind? It was

>

> tighter than a trampoline. Can you say, " Rubber baby buggy bumper

>

> butt? "

>

>

>

> Okay, so I had to take baby steps, and walk sideways, and I couldn't

>

> move from my butt cheeks to my knees. But, I was firm!  Oh no...I

>

> had to go to the bathroom. And there wasn't a snap crotch.  From now

>

> on, undies gotta have a snap crotch. I was ready to rip it open and

>

> re-stitch the crotch with Velcro, but the pain factor from past

>

> experiments was still fresh in my mind.  I quickly side stepped to

>

> the bathroom. An hour later, I had answered nature's call and

>

> repeated the struggle into the girdle.

>

>

>

> I was ready for the bra and remembered what the saleslady said to

>

> do.  I could see her glossed lips mouthing, " Do not fasten the bra

>

> in the front, and twist it around. Put the bra on the way it should

>

> be worn__straps over the shoulders. Then bend over and gently place

>

> both breasts inside the cups. "   Easy if you have four hands. But,

>

> with confidence, I put my arms into the holsters, bent over and

>

> pulled the bra down...but the boobs weren't cooperating. I'd no

>

> sooner tuck one in a cup, and while placing the other, the first

>

> would slip out. I needed a strategy.  I bounced up and down a few

>

> times, tried to dribble them in with short bunny hops, but that

>

> didn't work. So, while bent over, I began rocking gently back and

>

> forth on my heel and toes and I set 'em to swinging. Finally, on the

>

> fourth swing, pause, and lift, I captured the gliding glands.

>

>

>

> Quickly fastening the back of the bra, I stood up for examination.

>

> Back straight, slightly arched, I turned and faced the mirror,

>

> turning front, and then sideways. I smiled, " Yes, Houston, we have

>

> lift up! " My breasts were high, firm and there was cleavage! I was

>

> happy until I tried to look down. I had a chin rest and I couldn't

>

> see my feet. I still had to put on my pantyhose, and shoes. Oh...why

>

> did I buy heels with buckles?  Then I had to pee again.

>

>

>

> I put on my sweats, fixed myself a drink, ordered pizza, and skipped

>

> the reunion.

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

> EMAIL SUPPORT TEXAS-STYLE!!

>

> Visit us on the web: http://www.texastops.org

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Sounds like deja vue to me.

Aggie

Quoting Connolly :

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

> I had prepared for it like any intelligent woman would. I went on a

>

> starvation diet the day before, knowing that all the extra weight

>

> would just melt off in 24 hours, leaving me with my sleek, trim,

>

> high-school-girl body.

>

>

>

> The last many years of careful cellulite collection would just be

>

> gone with a snap of a finger. I knew if I didn't eat a morsel on

>

> Friday, that I could probably fit into my senior formal on Saturday.

>

> Trotting up to the attic, I pulled the gown out of the garment bag,

>

> carried it lovingly downstairs, ran my hand over the fabric, and

>

> hung it on the door. I stripped naked, looked in the mirror, sighed,

>

> and thought, " Well, okay, maybe if I shift it all to the back... "

>

> bodies never have pockets where you need them.

>

>

>

> Bravely, I took the gown off the hanger, unzipped the shimmering

>

> dress and stepped gingerly into it. I struggled, twisted, turned,

>

> and pulled and I got the formal all the way up to my knees...before

>

> the zipper gave out.  I was disappointed. I wanted to wear that

>

> dress with those silver platform sandals again and dance the night

>

> away. Okay, one setback was not going to the mood for this affair.

>

> No way! Rolling the dress into a ball and tossing it into the

>

> corner, I turned to Plan B: the black velvet caftan.

>

>

>

> I gathered up all the goodies that I had purchased at the drugstore,

>

> the scented shower gel; the body building and highlighting shampoo &

>

> conditioner, and the split_end killer and shine enhancer. Soon my

>

> hair would look like that girl's in the Pantene ads.

>

>

>

> Then the makeup - the under eye " ain't no lines here " firming cream,

>

> the all-day face-lifting gravity-fighting moisturizer with wrinkle

>

> filler spackle; the all day " kiss me till my lips bleed and see if

>

> this gloss will come off " lipstick, the bronzing face powder for

>

> that special glow... But first, the roll-on facial hair remover. I

>

> could feel the wrinkles shuddering in fear.

>

>

>

> OK - time to get ready...I jumped into the steaming shower, soaped,

>

> lathered, rinsed, shaved, tweezed, buffed, scrubbed, and scoured my

>

> body to a tingling pink.  I plastered my freshly scrubbed face with

>

> the anti wrinkle, gravity fighting, " your face will look like a

>

> baby's butt " face cream. I set my hair on the hot rollers.  I felt

>

> wonderful. Ready to take on the world. Or in this instance, my

>

> underwear.  With the towel firmly wrapped around my glistening body,

>

> I pulled out the black lace, tummy_tucking, cellulite_pushing, ham

>

> hock_rounding girdle, and the matchin " lifting those bosoms like

>

> they're filled with helium " bra.

>

>

>

> I greased my body with the scented body lotion and began the plunge.

>

> I pulled, stretched, tugged, hiked, folded, tucked, twisted,

>

> shimmied, hopped, pushed, wiggled, snapped, shook, caterpillar

>

> crawled, and kicked.  Sweat poured off my forehead but I was done.

>

> And it didn't look bad.  So I rested. A well deserved rest, too. The

>

> girdle was on my body. Bounce a quarter off my behind? It was

>

> tighter than a trampoline. Can you say, " Rubber baby buggy bumper

>

> butt? "

>

>

>

> Okay, so I had to take baby steps, and walk sideways, and I couldn't

>

> move from my butt cheeks to my knees. But, I was firm!  Oh no...I

>

> had to go to the bathroom. And there wasn't a snap crotch.  From now

>

> on, undies gotta have a snap crotch. I was ready to rip it open and

>

> re-stitch the crotch with Velcro, but the pain factor from past

>

> experiments was still fresh in my mind.  I quickly side stepped to

>

> the bathroom. An hour later, I had answered nature's call and

>

> repeated the struggle into the girdle.

>

>

>

> I was ready for the bra and remembered what the saleslady said to

>

> do.  I could see her glossed lips mouthing, " Do not fasten the bra

>

> in the front, and twist it around. Put the bra on the way it should

>

> be worn__straps over the shoulders. Then bend over and gently place

>

> both breasts inside the cups. "   Easy if you have four hands. But,

>

> with confidence, I put my arms into the holsters, bent over and

>

> pulled the bra down...but the boobs weren't cooperating. I'd no

>

> sooner tuck one in a cup, and while placing the other, the first

>

> would slip out. I needed a strategy.  I bounced up and down a few

>

> times, tried to dribble them in with short bunny hops, but that

>

> didn't work. So, while bent over, I began rocking gently back and

>

> forth on my heel and toes and I set 'em to swinging. Finally, on the

>

> fourth swing, pause, and lift, I captured the gliding glands.

>

>

>

> Quickly fastening the back of the bra, I stood up for examination.

>

> Back straight, slightly arched, I turned and faced the mirror,

>

> turning front, and then sideways. I smiled, " Yes, Houston, we have

>

> lift up! " My breasts were high, firm and there was cleavage! I was

>

> happy until I tried to look down. I had a chin rest and I couldn't

>

> see my feet. I still had to put on my pantyhose, and shoes. Oh...why

>

> did I buy heels with buckles?  Then I had to pee again.

>

>

>

> I put on my sweats, fixed myself a drink, ordered pizza, and skipped

>

> the reunion.

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

> EMAIL SUPPORT TEXAS-STYLE!!

>

> Visit us on the web: http://www.texastops.org

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Sounds like deja vue to me.

Aggie

Quoting Connolly :

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

> I had prepared for it like any intelligent woman would. I went on a

>

> starvation diet the day before, knowing that all the extra weight

>

> would just melt off in 24 hours, leaving me with my sleek, trim,

>

> high-school-girl body.

>

>

>

> The last many years of careful cellulite collection would just be

>

> gone with a snap of a finger. I knew if I didn't eat a morsel on

>

> Friday, that I could probably fit into my senior formal on Saturday.

>

> Trotting up to the attic, I pulled the gown out of the garment bag,

>

> carried it lovingly downstairs, ran my hand over the fabric, and

>

> hung it on the door. I stripped naked, looked in the mirror, sighed,

>

> and thought, " Well, okay, maybe if I shift it all to the back... "

>

> bodies never have pockets where you need them.

>

>

>

> Bravely, I took the gown off the hanger, unzipped the shimmering

>

> dress and stepped gingerly into it. I struggled, twisted, turned,

>

> and pulled and I got the formal all the way up to my knees...before

>

> the zipper gave out.  I was disappointed. I wanted to wear that

>

> dress with those silver platform sandals again and dance the night

>

> away. Okay, one setback was not going to the mood for this affair.

>

> No way! Rolling the dress into a ball and tossing it into the

>

> corner, I turned to Plan B: the black velvet caftan.

>

>

>

> I gathered up all the goodies that I had purchased at the drugstore,

>

> the scented shower gel; the body building and highlighting shampoo &

>

> conditioner, and the split_end killer and shine enhancer. Soon my

>

> hair would look like that girl's in the Pantene ads.

>

>

>

> Then the makeup - the under eye " ain't no lines here " firming cream,

>

> the all-day face-lifting gravity-fighting moisturizer with wrinkle

>

> filler spackle; the all day " kiss me till my lips bleed and see if

>

> this gloss will come off " lipstick, the bronzing face powder for

>

> that special glow... But first, the roll-on facial hair remover. I

>

> could feel the wrinkles shuddering in fear.

>

>

>

> OK - time to get ready...I jumped into the steaming shower, soaped,

>

> lathered, rinsed, shaved, tweezed, buffed, scrubbed, and scoured my

>

> body to a tingling pink.  I plastered my freshly scrubbed face with

>

> the anti wrinkle, gravity fighting, " your face will look like a

>

> baby's butt " face cream. I set my hair on the hot rollers.  I felt

>

> wonderful. Ready to take on the world. Or in this instance, my

>

> underwear.  With the towel firmly wrapped around my glistening body,

>

> I pulled out the black lace, tummy_tucking, cellulite_pushing, ham

>

> hock_rounding girdle, and the matchin " lifting those bosoms like

>

> they're filled with helium " bra.

>

>

>

> I greased my body with the scented body lotion and began the plunge.

>

> I pulled, stretched, tugged, hiked, folded, tucked, twisted,

>

> shimmied, hopped, pushed, wiggled, snapped, shook, caterpillar

>

> crawled, and kicked.  Sweat poured off my forehead but I was done.

>

> And it didn't look bad.  So I rested. A well deserved rest, too. The

>

> girdle was on my body. Bounce a quarter off my behind? It was

>

> tighter than a trampoline. Can you say, " Rubber baby buggy bumper

>

> butt? "

>

>

>

> Okay, so I had to take baby steps, and walk sideways, and I couldn't

>

> move from my butt cheeks to my knees. But, I was firm!  Oh no...I

>

> had to go to the bathroom. And there wasn't a snap crotch.  From now

>

> on, undies gotta have a snap crotch. I was ready to rip it open and

>

> re-stitch the crotch with Velcro, but the pain factor from past

>

> experiments was still fresh in my mind.  I quickly side stepped to

>

> the bathroom. An hour later, I had answered nature's call and

>

> repeated the struggle into the girdle.

>

>

>

> I was ready for the bra and remembered what the saleslady said to

>

> do.  I could see her glossed lips mouthing, " Do not fasten the bra

>

> in the front, and twist it around. Put the bra on the way it should

>

> be worn__straps over the shoulders. Then bend over and gently place

>

> both breasts inside the cups. "   Easy if you have four hands. But,

>

> with confidence, I put my arms into the holsters, bent over and

>

> pulled the bra down...but the boobs weren't cooperating. I'd no

>

> sooner tuck one in a cup, and while placing the other, the first

>

> would slip out. I needed a strategy.  I bounced up and down a few

>

> times, tried to dribble them in with short bunny hops, but that

>

> didn't work. So, while bent over, I began rocking gently back and

>

> forth on my heel and toes and I set 'em to swinging. Finally, on the

>

> fourth swing, pause, and lift, I captured the gliding glands.

>

>

>

> Quickly fastening the back of the bra, I stood up for examination.

>

> Back straight, slightly arched, I turned and faced the mirror,

>

> turning front, and then sideways. I smiled, " Yes, Houston, we have

>

> lift up! " My breasts were high, firm and there was cleavage! I was

>

> happy until I tried to look down. I had a chin rest and I couldn't

>

> see my feet. I still had to put on my pantyhose, and shoes. Oh...why

>

> did I buy heels with buckles?  Then I had to pee again.

>

>

>

> I put on my sweats, fixed myself a drink, ordered pizza, and skipped

>

> the reunion.

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

> EMAIL SUPPORT TEXAS-STYLE!!

>

> Visit us on the web: http://www.texastops.org

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

Link to comment
Share on other sites

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