My Ass is Lifting

My ass is lifting.

Clearly believing that you hang on my every thought, word and action, I felt the need to bring this to you immediately. My ass is lifting. I do believe it is a result of these technologically advanced shoes from Skechers. I mean, I'd like to believe that I'm aging backwards for the next 20 years, but more a more likely cause of this miraculous occurrence is the wearing of the shoes designed to do just this.

Somewhat less miraculous, is the fact that while my backside is lifting, my front side is falling. I'm not sure if it is some sort of cosmic balance, but the stomach and breasts are heading further south—kind of like really big birds that just got the message about migrating to Florida for the winter. This I will blame on the cruelties of life, the lack of aging backwards technology and that I never got my wish of being Samantha on "Bewitched". I could blame the fact that I've been eating like I'm still two weeks pre-Christmas (complete with "what the hell—it's a holiday" attitude), but that really seems more like taking responsibility for my actions. I've already done that once this week after an unfortunate incident at work (perhaps having something to do with my review/compensation), so I've clearly met my quota for grown-up behavior.

Hank Moody would be proud. And then repulsed.

I wonder if Skechers makes girdles.

Kate