This has nothing to do with Grant County genealogy but I think I have been attacked by the body snatchers too! I thought this was so funny! >> MYSTERIES OF AGING >> >> >> >>My thighs were snatched from me during the night of March 22nd. >> >>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 legs that had been wholly, if >>imperfectly, mine for years? Whose thighs were these? What happened to >mine? >> >>I spent that 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 buns >>were next. I knew it was the same gang because they took pains to match >>my new derriere ... although badly attached at least 3 inches lower than >>the original ... to the thighs they had stuck me with earlier. Now my >>rear complimented my legs lump for lump. Frantic, I prayed that long >>skirts would stay in fashion. >> >>It was 2 years when I realized my arms had been switched. One morning >>while fixing my hair, I watched horrified but 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, a section at a time. >> >>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. >> >>During one spring, my attention was riveted to upper arms ... female >>arms. I studied them from every angle, being careful not to raise mine >>in public nor flatten them too tightly against my body. In private I >>held them straight out and did endless circles that would have tightened >>my real arms but did nothing for these silly putty caricatures. In the >>end, in deepening despair, I gave up my arms and my T-shirts. What >>could they do to me next? >> >>In short order, my right boob could hold a pencil (it seemed >>particularly cruel to take just one). And my eyes began to remind >>people that they needed a new pair of Hush Puppies. My poor neck >>disappeared more quickly than the Thanksgiving turkey it now reminded me >of. >> >>That's why I've decided to tell my story; I can't take on the medical >>profession by myself. Women of America! Wake up and smell the coffee! >>That ain'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 >>raising. Look familiar? Are those your eyelids on that movie star? >> >>I think I finally may have found my thighs. I hope Cindy Crawford paid >>a really good price for them. >>