30 Year Class Reunion
Spring was just around the corner, and so was my 30 year class reunion. 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 looked in the mirror, sighed, and thought, "Well, okay, maybe if I shift it all to the back..."
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 bodybuilding, and high lighting 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 just feel the wrinkles on my face 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 face cream. I set my hair on the hot rollers. I felt wonderful. Ready to take on the world.
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 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. Okay, so I had to take baby steps, and walk sideways! Oh no. I had to go to the bathroom.
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. "Do not fasten the bra in the front, and twist it around. Put the bra on straps over the shoulders, then fasten in the back”. Easy if you have four hands. But, with confidence, I tried... for nearly an hour... and I finally got it ”Houston we have lift-up”.
I turned and faced the mirror, turning front, and then sideways. I smiled, 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.
In the end, I put on my sweats, fixed myself a drink, ordered pizza, and skipped the reunion. Life is sweet.
If You Enjoyed That - Please Share It!
Did you enjoy that? Please take a moment to share with your friends to help expand our audience. Click one of the social media share buttons above, or invite your friends by email to come and visit our page. Thank You!