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  • my little poem

    Posted by Anonymous on 25/01/2012 at 9:19 am

    The Purge
    My wife was out of town when I really got the urge
    But then I remembered I’d not long had a purge
    But in my desperation I looked and searched in vein
    Surly something must remain and so I racked my brain
    In all the nooks and crannies where I used to hide my stash
    I could not find a single thing oh why was I so rash
    My wife is so much trimmer but in my feaved mined
    I lost at least three sizes in hind sight what a shame
    Searching in her wardrobe while rummaging through her draws
    I spied a satin bra and panties that caused my thoughts to pause
    Pulling on her pantyhose my heart began to flutter
    Oh never will I purge again was all that I could mutter
    Then I unscrewed the mop head it would make a lovely wig,
    But glancing in the mirror I looked like a old bush pig,
    Next came the Collette Dinnigan that I secretly admire
    Sucked in my breath pulled and stretched over my spare tire
    And I thought I’d take a photo but the cameras lens it cracked
    Then buttons flew like bullets and I landed on my back
    The dress was not designed to hold in so much bulk
    The seism gave way it shredded like the cloths of the incredible hulk
    A thousand excuses rattled through my brain the complete destruction
    Of her dress now how would I explain?
    So ladies heed my warning should you fee the need to purge
    Always keep a little something in reserve

    Anonymous replied 13 years ago 0 Member · 1 Reply
  • 1 Reply
  • Anonymous

    Guest
    26/01/2012 at 12:46 am

    Hi all and especially Monika,

    Your poem is the exact reason why many years ago, when I no longer had the 100% need or desire to dress on a regular basis, I still kept a “reasonable stash”. Mostly lingerie and nightwear but still a reasonable stash. Including of course my corset, cos this “old gray mare aint want she used to be”, especially around the middle.

    My wigs are a sad sight, more like birds nests and I really should ditch all that decreipt pile of make up. My breast forms are a sad mess as well. But at least I still have them.

    I too used to be “poetic” especially about my “days on the road” selling my companies products. Caty emerged in hotel rooms on a ery frequent basis.

    The title was “The Representative CD”. (Pun intended).

    Cant remember more than the first two lines.

    “The do not disturb is on the door,

    HMMM think I’ve been dressed like this before”.

    da da da da da

    Happy dresing and dont purge

    Caty