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View Full Version : Class Reunion of a 60+ year old lady



dg-in-centralpa
09-06-2006, 05:54 PM
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 forty 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 sandals again and 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 crepe caftan.

I gathered up all the goodies that I had purchased at Saks: 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 posterior" face cream. I set my hair on 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, hammock-rounding
girdle, and the matching "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
buns?" Okay, so I had to take baby steps, and walk sideways, and I couldn't
move from my buns 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 sidestepped 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 potty again.
I put on my sweats, fixed myself a drink, ordered pizza,
and skipped the reunion.

DG