Introducing Buff MOB

While I am quite sure that no one will be looking at me during my beautiful daughter’s wedding I suppose the odd glance may stray my way. As the MOB I¬†know I should strive to look ravishing or more realistically, presentable. But when I conjure up a mental image of a MOB I see a stooped over woman, maybe with a cane, a dowdy dress and orthopedic shoes! I’m sorry but that is just NOT me. I may be the MOB but I am not ready to be put in cold storage quite yet. If I have my way I will recreate the concept of MOB. My MOB image is someone trendy – stylish hairct, fab outfit and kickin’ shoes! Be gone frumpy mothers…Of course one must be tasteful. Modern style does not mean pole dancing gone mad. But a MOB should reflect that the 50s are the new 40s.

The MOB outfit should scream, “I am the MOB of this gorgeous bride and HELLO I ALSO look pretty darn good as well.”

While the MOB should be stylish and that style of course will be dictated by the kind of wedding is taking place, MY style quest for the moment is THIN. Thin is always good and that is the look I am going for. For the moment I will be working via a variety of torturous methods to achieve my goal.

1. Well, I would rather lay down in the road and let a car run over me, but I have chosen the equally painful alternative of a personal trainer. Said sadist tortures me three times a week. Pushing and pounding me like a slave and twisting my body into pretzel-like contortions, this evil spirit is trying to beat the flab off of my arms and the bulges off of my thighs. Never mind the pain, I also have to endure the humiliation of being ordered around by someone the age of my son!

2. Because it is not enough for a trainer to flog me three times a week, I am adding to my own misery by forcing myself to do “cardio”…translation – SWEAT INDUCING BEHAVIOR five days a week. I never thought of myself as one who would have a relationship with a machine..BUT I have discovered my love/hate relationship with the treadmill. I LOVE to get off after I have HATED my 45 minutes of running.

NOTE: My body is in a state of rebellion much like the Libyans. It is protesting – exhibiting many socially acceptable behaviors…such as lying down in unusual places and voicing expletive deletives. It has stopped short of actually murder, thankfully.

I will work on my shape hoping it will behave like plasticene – malleable and moldable. Meanwhile I am collecting designs of fabulous frocks which I will unveil to you at a later date – when my arms and legs have sufficiently recovered from the bicep curls and squats.

Stay tuned for the BUFF MOB.

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