I finally take a great picture...and I can't show it to anyone!

Good evening!

like this, but with more clothes and body hair.

 

As we all know, gravity is no friend to the middle aged woman, especially if that woman is a little on the fluffy side.  What once seemed like steadfast mountains now resembles more closely the aftermath of an avalanche.  We have foundation garments that employ elastic, wires, padding, and elfin magic to at least mask the ill effects of gravity, but let's be honest here, the minute we are at home, we snap all that off and flop on the couch like a really saggy beached walrus...and yes, I'm including the fun chin hairs those majestic critters sport...because gravity isn't the only thing that betrays us in our middle years...hormones turn on us faster than a PMS-ing teen aged girl and give us the gift of hair...in all the wrong places.

So yes, I'm not a huge fan of photographic images of myself.  Every time I see a picture of myself I'm either sagging all over the place or, and this might be worse, I'm sucking things in and pulling things back so hard I'm starting to look like weird aging body builder. 

So anyway, last week I went in for what is supposed to be a yearly test for a middle aged lady's...ladies.  I've sort of been remiss in getting it done because 1)  I don't have the time or the energy to go to the hospital, put on a robe, drink some tea, and then have a woman drag my ladies across the hall and flatten them, and most of my back fat, in a panini press.

But I have a new doctor.  A new doctor who feels middle aged ladies should have their ladies photographed every year without fail and since they do that sort of photography in my local clinic now I really had no reason to put it off.

So I went to the clinic, put on the robe, but there was no tea.  In fact, the woman who walked me in  and handed me the robe was tapping her feet impatiently as I was putting on the robe because, well, this ain't no hospital kiddo, this is the radiology department of a very busy clinic and we have no time for tea or flowers or soft music or any of that.  You want that, you can go to the hospital where the aids wear pink.  But not in this clinic.

Nope, she ushered me to another room, and told me to step up to the panini press.  I was rather surprised, this was a newer model and far less...flattening.  However, she did have to politely ask me to move my hips back...(she can be as polite as she wants...i knew I needed to move my hips so  my gut fat would get out of the way.)  I was also impressed...the photographs turned out FABULOUS!

I'm not bragging here, it's the truth.  My ladies have not looked so perfect, so non sagging, in many years.  Forget Playtex or Maidenform ladies!  If you want the ladies to look like they did twenty years ago, you need to stick them in that big old clinical panini press and tape that image to your sweater.  Put something clever on there like, "This is what they really look like..."

CAN I PUT MY WHOLE BODY IN THAT PANINI PRESS AND TAKE A PICTURE AND LOOK TWENTY YEARS YOUNGER?

If only.

Nope, I finally take a picture of at least part of me that looks AWESOME and I can't show it to anyone.

Well, except the gung ho new doctor I have.    Like that's going to be any big whoop-de-doo.