You just HAVE to read this....

[Guest guest]

High School Reunion for the Ladies

Like all intelligent women, 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 & dance the night

away.

Okay, one setback was not going to spoil my 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 drug store:

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 & 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, & the matching " lifting those bosoms like they're filled with

helium " bra.

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

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

hopped, pushed, wiggled, snapped, shook, caterpillar crawled & kicked.

Sweat poured off my forehead but I was done, & 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. I 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.

..........I never went to a reunion...but it seems I went through this

little routine WAAAAYYY too many times. And just like she did, I

ended up not going out and instead adding a few extra pounds with my

feel good food. Am I the only one who can identify with this? Just

wait till I find the one about shopping for a bathing suit...I think

I laughed off a good amount of calories on this one and the other.

Ang

Ang