She more than made an effort, her figure creator. Every morning not yawning, but slipping on the tummy vibrator. Melba toast was the most that passed those sweet red lips. Palates, yoga, stretching, swaying, swaying those swinging hips.
The artists and the painters they did not restrain her. Posing nude for her life class and for her figure friend dude. Running on the moors, treading timeless, line-less steps. Pumping iron, and swimming on, down the full length lane.
Fully spread under summer sun, tanning, figure slamming. Cramming in the cranberry juice and the fat free yoghurt. All of this to manage the refrain between size twelve and size fourteen
Skin supplements, perpetual E45. Conscientiously keeping her beauty, keeping beauty alive. The hairdressers kept moving, they were kept on their toes. A trim, a bob, no perm, for my brunette, well trimmed rose.
