Celia stood in front of her mirror; her yellowed white cotton underwear hoisted to her waist. She admired the ripples in her rib cage, but hated how small her tits had become. She thought they looked like flat drying pears. She stared down toward her feet, wiggling her freshly emerald green painted toes, excited about how they’d look in her new espadrilles she purchased during a BOGO sale at Payless shoe store.
Looking up into the mirror again, she tilted her head to the side noticing her pubic area. Sprouting from her underwear were wiry strands of thick grey hair sneaking out the side. She pressed her hand against her bush, paused, and then watched it retake its form – puffing slightly outward. Celia twisted a particularly rebellious strand that seemed to be growing from the place where her thigh met her vagina.
Taking stock of her body, Celia turned around to examine her rear. Her panties curved around hugging her bottom as it rounded off into her thighs. She smiled. She tugged at her underwear trying to fill out the center, but every time she let go, they would sag. She tried to twist her torso further around to see if she had those to dimples in her back – just above the butt, like all the celebrities did in sexy love making scenes. Instead, she noticed a small patch of hair.
Her Shih Tzu, Blanche, watched Celia from the bed. She blinked blankly in her tiny green t-shirt that read, “Resting Brunch Face.” She yawned, which cued Celia to walk over to Blanche and kiss her on top of her doggie ponytail tied with a pink bow, “You’re old and I still like you.” Blanche took a moment to stare at Celia and then went back to licking her own crotch. Celia laid on her bed and signed up for Tinder.
Drinkers with Writing Problems 