Monday, November 28, 2011

How about you, front or back

of a book, a football player, a dress, yourself?

Usually The Front. I purchased Mama Makes Up Her Mind and other Dangers of Southern Living, by Bailey White. The picture of a cute cottage with vintage car parked ON THE PORCH along with a bathtub and rocking chair made me chuckle. I read the first paragraph of the back blurb and gave the book a thumbs up. I got home and began reading. Bailey has the writing style of Flannery O'Conner and Fannie Flagg, which I like. It was an easy read, but I kept getting frustrated at the end of each chapter. There was no continuity into the next chapter. I must be a slow learner, because I was on page 48 before I flipped the book over and read the entire back cover blurb. "Bailey White's indelible VIGNETTES of Southern eccentricity..." well, Duh!

I've done a whole lot of football watching since Thursday. So uhmm, ladies, you all know it's The Back. Unless it is my nine year old football playing grandson I'm watching, and then it's The Front because he has the cutest face.
Ahh, if only Spandex pants did for my hiney what they do for those pro jock tight ends.

Dresses: The Front
Saw some of the cutest dresses this weekend. They MUST drape across my midsection ... uhm, Okay, my midriff bulge, an old woman's version of a young girl's "muffin top". I found several that I thought did the trick, and then I looked in the mirror to discover buttons, zippers and puckers in the wrong places in the back. I walked out of the dressing room and saw an old friend from many years ago. "How are you doing?" I asked.

"Getting older, wiser and fatter," she said with a smile.

"I still think of myself as when we were young. I have this image of how I will look in these dresses. Then, I try them on and get my real age come-uppance in that dressing room mirror," I complained.

She rubbed her belly and said, "Me too. Enjoy the holidays."

I patted my belly and said, "Yep, going home to finish the pie."

"See you round," I said and headed down the aisle. From a distance you couldn't tell if I was coming or going.

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