Rævyn Cigány
August 8th, 2001, 11:53 AM
To all of my Dear Girlfriends,
Most of you have read the scare-mail about the person whose kidneys were
stolen while he was passed out. While that was an "urban legend", this one
is not. It's happening every day. I'm sending this "warning" only to a few
of my closest friends and family. You too may have been a victim-read on.
My thighs were stolen from me during the night of August 3rd a few years
ago. It was just that quick. I went to sleep in my body and woke up with
someone else's thighs. The new ones had the texture of cooked oatmeal. Who
would have done such a cruel thing to take what had been wholly, if
imperfectly, mine for years? Whose thighs were these? What happened to
mine? I spent the entire summer looking for them. I searched, in vain, at
pools and beaches; anywhere I might find female limbs exposed. I became
obsessed. I had nightmares filled with cellulite and flesh that turns to
bumps in the night. Finally, hurt and angry, I resigned myself to living
out
my life in jeans and Sheer Energy pantyhose. Then, just when my guard was
down, the thieves struck again. My rear end was next. I knew it was the
same gang, because they took pains to match my new rear end (although badly
attached at least three inches lower than the original) to the thighs they
had stuck me with earlier. Now my rear complemented my legs, lump for lump.
Frantic, I prayed that long skirts would stay in fashion. Two years ago I
realized my arms had been switched. One morning while fixing my hair, I
watched Horrified by 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, cleverly and fiendishly, one section at a time.
In the end, in deepening despair, I gave up my T-shirts. What could they do
to me next? Age? Age had nothing to do with it. Age was supposed to creep
up, unnoticed and intangible, something like maturity. NO, I was being
attacked, repeatedly and without warning. That's why I've decided to share
my story. I can't take on the medical profession by myself. Women of
America wake up and smell the coffee! That isn't really "plastic those
surgeons are using. You know where they're getting those replacement parts,
don't you? The next time you suspect someone has had a face "lifted", look
again! Was it lifted from you? Check out those tummy tucks and buttocks
raisings. Look familiar? Are those your eyelids on that movie star? I
think I finally may have 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....
Most of you have read the scare-mail about the person whose kidneys were
stolen while he was passed out. While that was an "urban legend", this one
is not. It's happening every day. I'm sending this "warning" only to a few
of my closest friends and family. You too may have been a victim-read on.
My thighs were stolen from me during the night of August 3rd a few years
ago. It was just that quick. I went to sleep in my body and woke up with
someone else's thighs. The new ones had the texture of cooked oatmeal. Who
would have done such a cruel thing to take what had been wholly, if
imperfectly, mine for years? Whose thighs were these? What happened to
mine? I spent the entire summer looking for them. I searched, in vain, at
pools and beaches; anywhere I might find female limbs exposed. I became
obsessed. I had nightmares filled with cellulite and flesh that turns to
bumps in the night. Finally, hurt and angry, I resigned myself to living
out
my life in jeans and Sheer Energy pantyhose. Then, just when my guard was
down, the thieves struck again. My rear end was next. I knew it was the
same gang, because they took pains to match my new rear end (although badly
attached at least three inches lower than the original) to the thighs they
had stuck me with earlier. Now my rear complemented my legs, lump for lump.
Frantic, I prayed that long skirts would stay in fashion. Two years ago I
realized my arms had been switched. One morning while fixing my hair, I
watched Horrified by 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, cleverly and fiendishly, one section at a time.
In the end, in deepening despair, I gave up my T-shirts. What could they do
to me next? Age? Age had nothing to do with it. Age was supposed to creep
up, unnoticed and intangible, something like maturity. NO, I was being
attacked, repeatedly and without warning. That's why I've decided to share
my story. I can't take on the medical profession by myself. Women of
America wake up and smell the coffee! That isn't really "plastic those
surgeons are using. You know where they're getting those replacement parts,
don't you? The next time you suspect someone has had a face "lifted", look
again! Was it lifted from you? Check out those tummy tucks and buttocks
raisings. Look familiar? Are those your eyelids on that movie star? I
think I finally may have 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....