There hasn’t been a lot to blog about lately. Other than taking a 14# medicine ball to the boob today from a 12 foot target... not much of interest has happened. Tomorrow the games WOD #2 will post. I’ll be sure to update you on the next vomit inducing endeavor. My score last week landed me in a spot far, far, from first place. :0)
I went in for a face peel today. The PA facilitating my “rejuvenation” had the skin of a toddler. I mean perfect. I was immediately sold on whatever she suggested and willing to mortgage the house to do so. It took all of 30 seconds for me to sign a waiver and hand my credit card over for a little Botox intervention. So, in about ten days I will lack the muscular ability to furrow my brow, thus looking (at least) 15 years younger. My plan was to not say anything to anyone. To my credit, I waited about five minutes before I called my first friend to relay the news. For those of you who know me - that’s a big deal that I waited that long.
This takes me to the topic of plastic surgery. I’ve heard many women talk about it. Many of them shy or embarrassed at the thought much less the execution. Because I lack a ‘shy’ gene I’m happy to relay my feelings, opinions and lists of potential fix-ups from the rooftop. Due to CrossFit I’m proud to announce that I have an AMAZING set of six pack abs. I’m not so proud to announce that they are buried underneath an unsightly muffin top or “fanny pack” as I sometimes call it. So, there’s your first visual. Onto the boobies.... Let’s just say that without a good push up bra I look like I should have a disk in my lip and be on the front of National Geographic. (Side note- I had to give up yoga because my boobs nearly suffocated me once in the ‘plow’ position. It wasn’t pretty.) I’ve already been evaluated for a little nip, tuck and suck to the tune of... well, a lot of money. My biggest concern is not the money or pain but my lack of frontal lobe (the area of YOUR brain the controls impulse and social filtration). I lack this device in sober situations. If you toss in a few martinis God only knows what I’m capable of. I’ll be ‘that girl’ showing everyone my new rack.
Someone asked me, “What happens if you don’t like the result.” I don’t know how that’s fucking possible. I’ve seen the random botched set of boobies. Ya know, the ones where one nipple is aiming toward the ceiling and the other is heading toward the floor? Even that would be a big step up from tube socks with tennis balls. I guess.. if I’m really unhappy with the result I can find another doctor who offers the ‘quintuplets package.’ I can get everything re-stretched out and sagged below the waistline. :0)
No comments:
Post a Comment