LR- Has NOTHING to do with the SCA but its pretty funny....

[Pookie]

(This is for the Ladies out there.  I'm sure most will enjoy and relate to
it. I kinda am partial to the "Bra episode")


The Class Reunion by a 40 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-gal
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 set back was not going to spoil my mood for the 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 the gal's  in the Pantene ads. Then
the makeup - the under eye "aint no lines here" firming cream, the all day
face-lifting gravity fighting moisturizer with
wrinkle filer spackle, the all day "kiss me till my lips bleed, and see if
the gloss will come off" lipstick, the bronzing face powder for the 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, 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 lacy, tummy tucking, cellulite pushing,
hamlock-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 begin 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 at the crotch with velcro.  But the pain factor 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 remember 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, bend  over and gently place both breasts into 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.

Why did I buy heels with  buckles?  And then I had to pee again.

Think I'll go fix myself a drink and skip the dumb reunion!


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