Bread, Expansion and Cleaning

I love to eat! For the past couple of years, I’ve likened myself to bread dough. For you non-bakers out there, the process of making bread is simple. Mix flour, water, salt and yeast then knead and let rise. After rising you punch it down and let it rise again. And voila it’s ready for the oven. The chemistry of flour and water reacting to the yeast is pretty much how my body reacts to food: expansion upon contact.

As the years go by that yeast is becoming more effective. And while I do embrace my “volumptuousness,” I don’t want to let myself go to the point that they’d have to un-hinge the doors before I can get out of the house. I want to maintain my “Rubenesquiness.” So every once in a while I do need a punch-down, which means exercise. Since I hate any type of body movement that requires me to count up to eight and repeat again I’ve come up with an alternative: house cleaning.

It’s amazing how much one can sweat while vacuuming, dusting and moping (oops I meant mopping). Add to that a thorough rub down of the bathroom and kitchen and you’ve got yourself a whole cardio workout. Plus, you’ve got a spic and span dwelling. I felt so good that I rewarded myself with a pan full of Texas Toast from Sara Lee.

Happy eating and cleaning,


© 2011 Lafemmeroar


Ah, the beauty of youth is wasted on the youth. It was certainly wasted on me when I roamed the earth stuffing everything I could get my hands on inside my mouth thinking that I could live like a glutton forever and keep an effortlessly thin body. It was certainly wasted on me when I went around braless and thought that my breasts would remain taut and perky forever. Why is it that beauty is only represented by the young and thin? Why is it that beauty is only shown through the unearned perfection of youth?

It’s ironic that I never really thought about my looks or weight until I noticed the signs of “gravitage.” For me this was an overnight revelation. I wasn’t prepared. One day I was thin and perky and the next I was dumpy and slumpy.

Yes gravity and age are synonymous with death and taxes. It’s inevitable. It permeates our physical world and drives us insane. But imagine a world without the Vogues and Elles and the InStyles … can you? Considering the amount of magazines I have on my kitchen table, the answer to that would be no. I too have been captivated by the propaganda. I’ve spent too many dollars on beauty products. diets and exercise equipment whose powers can’t possibly fight against the natural law of “gravitage.”

So, I’m fighting back! I refuse to be dumpy and slumpy. From now on I see myself as a goddess of “volumptuousness” fit to be revered by a man who appreciates the enhanced beauty of maturity. There are men out there who like a little cushion in the rump. It’s comforting spooning with something soft by your side instead of a skeletal waif that only eats salad without dressing. It’s more fun to be with a body that’s alive in the pendulous movements of parts meant to be adored with kisses and caresses. And we are meant to be adored ladies …

Beautifully yours,


© 2011 Lafemmeroar

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