I spent the entire
summer looking for them. I searched in vain at pools and beaches,
anywhere I might find female limbs exposed. I became obsessed.
I had nightmares filled with cellulite and flesh that turns to bumps in
the night.
Finally, hurt and angry,
I resigned myself to living out my life in jeans and Sheer Energy pantyhose.
Then, just when my guard
was down, the thieves struck again. My buns were next. I knew it was the
same gang because they took pains to match my new derriere (badly attached
at least 3 inches lower than the original) to the thighs they had stuck
me with earlier. Now my rear complimented my legs lump for lump. Frantic,
I prayed that
my long skirts would stay
in fashion.
It was 2 years ago when
I realized my arms had been switched. One morning while fixing my hair,
I watched horrified but fascinated as the flesh of my upper arms swung
to and fro with the motion of the hairbrush. This was really getting
scary.
My body was being replaced,
cleverly and fiendishly one section at a time. Age? Age had nothing to
do with it. Age was supposed to creep up, unnoticed and intangible, something
like maturity.
NO, I was being attacked
repeatedly and without warning.
During one spring, my attention
was riveted to upper arms - female arms.
I studied them from every
angle, being careful not to raise mine in public nor flatten them too tightly
against my body. In private I held them straight out and did endless
circles that would have tightened my real arms but did nothing for these
Silly-Putty caricatures.
In the end, in deepening
despair, I gave up my T-shirts.
What could they do to me
next? In short order, my right boob could hold a pencil (it seemed particularly
cruel to take just one). And my eyes began to remind people they needed
a new pair of Hush Puppies. My poor neck disappeared faster than
the Thanksgiving Turkey. that It now reminded me of.
That's why I've decided
to tell my story; I can't take on the medical profession by myself.
Women of America, wake
up and smell the coffee! That isn't really "plastic" those
surgeons are using. You know where they're getting those replacement
parts, don't you?
The next time you suspect
someone has had a face "lifted" look again. Was it lifted from you?
Check out those tummy tucks and buttocks raising. Look familiar?
Are those your eyelids
on that movie star? I think I finally may have found my thighs.
I hope Cindy Crawford paid a really good price for them.
Author
unknown
(but
I love her who ever she is)
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