Fw: Class Reunion of a 50 or 60-something year old woman

[Guest guest]

> >

> > Class Reunion of a 50 or 60-something year old woman

> >

> > 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 here 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 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 " isn'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, hamhock-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 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 chinrest. And I couldn't see my feet.

> >

> > I still had to put on my pantyhose, and shoes. Why did I buy heels with

> > buckles? And then I had to pee again.

> >

> > I decided to go fix myself a drink and skip the reunion.

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

> >

> > Class Reunion of a 50 or 60-something year old woman

> >

> > 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 here 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 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 " isn'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, hamhock-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 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 chinrest. And I couldn't see my feet.

> >

> > I still had to put on my pantyhose, and shoes. Why did I buy heels with

> > buckles? And then I had to pee again.

> >

> > I decided to go fix myself a drink and skip the reunion.

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

>

>

>

>