I’m going to the doctor tomorrow…I go about three times a year, and you would think that would be enough to shame me into getting into shape. He’s decent enough. Not that I would date him, but I don’t want him to look on me with pity. “Poor girl, she’s really given up.” I mean I know I’m going–I’ve known it for months in advance, for Pete’s sake. And I remember full well the last time I was there, trying to hide my naked body underneath that piece of paper dress, that I would not, not,not, be that fat, that flabby-armed, that toned-challenged the next time I hopped up on the table. I could see it now…his expression when he looked at me and back at the screen on his little iPad. “Wow, you look so different!” Yeah, not tomorrow, buddy. He has no worry to be shocked. He’ll recognize me without problem. I’m packing up my flab and bringing it on down to the shop. But I’m shooting for next time to be ravishing, though. 🙂
Boobs…really? My back is killing me lately. I walk by storefronts, see my reflection, and I look as if my neck is being dragged by a fifty pound chain. My spine has given up the fight of ever being able to stand up straight for any length of time. After you’ve dated, owned a push-up bra, snagged your guy, fed a child or two, what are they good for? I’m not a Debbie Downer, but really. The only purpose they have after your forties is avoiding catching cancer in them and finding a bra that doesn’t bite down to your shoulder bone. They’re heavy. And in the way. Really. Who can jog normally with this type of vibration and carrying on? (not that I jog and would know this, anyway) The other day a wire worked its way out of the fabric and I felt I’d gone undercover with a microphone snaking its way out of my shirt. (*tap, tap* “is this mic on?”) That was after I jumped at seeing something raise out of my shirt. Of course what if boobs naturally fell off after you were secure with a relationship, fed a child, and whatever. Then something went crazy and you needed them again? You can’t just grow another set.
And leg hair. Really? In what society is leg hair on women considered attractive? Tell me. I can’t tell you how many times I go to wear a skirt and realize I didn’t prune my lower half the night before. Don’t get me started on arm pits. I’ve seen the opposing thought to clean-shaven. It’s not pretty. But boy is it convenient, I bet. How do you like it when you don’t have enough soap lathered and your razor bumps down it like a four wheeler on rough terrain? Then you do it again because you’re certain nothing got cut off?
Enough of that. I’ve got a busy day tomorrow to get rested up for. So much flab…so many ways to reassure myself the next time it will be gone!! Peace out, everyone. 🙂
