Taking the Girls for a Drive

There’s a new surgical procedure called Insta Breast that allows women to try out temporary breast implants. The procedure can take as little as twenty minutes and cost $2,500-$3,500. A woman will have twenty-four hours to live with the breast and come to a decision. It’s like test driving a car with you wearing the airbags.

For some women the Insta Breast can be a confidence boost for attending special occasions like a wedding or high school reunion. Although, at your 50^th high school reunion it can disconcerting to watch a fellow classmate hunched over, like Quasimodo, because the breasts she’s test driving are so big and heavy they’re weighing her down. Because she’s bent in half all conversation is conducted face to navel. Luckily, she’s pinned her name tag to the back of her sweater for all to read. You read the name. Willie? No, wait, that can’t be, you read it again. Oh, it’s Millie. It’s hard reading upside down.

For some women Insta Breast can be a confidence boost, but for me it’s a dye job. I have what I call my ‘dentist dyed hair.’ Before a dental appointment I get my hair dyed. Why? The dentist and hygienist always stand over me and have a clear view of my head. I don’t want them to see that my hair is the same color as my teeth. I don’t care if they see plaque buildup, but they should not and will not see my gray hair. My vanity speaks from the dental chair.

Why, if I knew when I was going to kick the bucket I’d make an appointment with my stylist the day before to get my ‘death dyed hair.’ I don’t want to be viewed and have people whisper, “It’s a shame she let herself go; didn’t even bother to touch up her roots.” The mortification! If I wasn’t already dead, I’d die from the embarrassment. Mourners should not and will not see my gray hair. My vanity speaks –even from the grave.