Then, just when my guard was down, the thieves struck again. My butt was next. I know it was the same gang, because they took pains to match my new rear end (although badly attached at least three inches lower than my original) to the thighs they stuck me with earlier. Now, my rear end complimented my legs, lump for lump. Frantic, I prayed that long skirts would stay in fashion.
It was two years ago when I realized my arms had been switched. One morning I was fixing my hair and 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 one section at a time. How clever and fiendish.
Age? Age had nothing to do with it. Age is supposed to creep up, unnoticed, something like maturity. NO, I was being attacked repeatedly and without warning. In despair I gave up my T-shirts. What could they do to me next?
My poor neck disappeared more quickly than the Thanksgiving turkey it now resembled. That's why I decided to tell my story. I can't take on the medical profession by myself.
Women of the world, wake up and smell the coffee. That really isn't plastic that those surgeons are using. You KNOW where they are getting those replacement part, don't you? The next time you suspect someone has had a face "lifted", look again. Was it lifted from you? I think I finally found my thighs...and I hope Cindy Crawford paid a really good price for them!
This is not a hoax. This is happening to women in every town every night. WARN YOUR FRIENDS.
P.S. I must say that last year I thought someone had stolen my breasts. I was lying in bed and they were gone! As I jumped out of bed I was relieved to see that they had just been hiding in my armpits as I slept. Now I keep them hidden in my waistband.