Personal Items

You may take the high road, but Fiorella will take the low road from now on.  Yes, she's donating every last high-heeled shoe in her closet (even the red ones, sigh) to The Caring Place for some young chick to enjoy while she grounds herself with flats.
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Fio's hairdresser has moved to Washington State, which is too far a drive for Fiorella. It's not just the hair care Fio misses, but the company.
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Fio wants a tummy tuck.  Yeah, three kids with an average birth-weight of ten pounds will do it to you.  Then there's that seventy pounds of avoirdupois she gained and managed to shed a while back.
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More and more, the only part of the newspaper that makes sense to Fio is the comic strips.

Forty-three Forever

The faint lines and wrinkles are returning as the swelling goes down, and those pretty cupid-bow lips have thinned out.  But, so what?  Fiorella doesn't want to look like a perpetual sixteen or even twenty-five.  She just wants to look her own age.  Well, except better.

And to think, all this started with an upper eye lift because Fio ran a red light she didn't see. What next?  Maybe Fio will get her arm flab taken care of somewhere along the line.  Or maybe a tummy tuck.  No, not a tummy tuck,  She's heard those things are P A I N F U L.