Most of you have read the scare-mail about the person whose kidneys were stolen while he was passed out-well read on. While that was an "urban legend" this one is not. It's happening everyday....

My thighs were stolen from me during the night of August 3rd a few years ago. 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 the 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 three 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 ago 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, one section at a time.

Age? Age had nothing to do with it. Age was supposed to creep up, noticed 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 or 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 new "Silly-Putty" caricatures.

In the end, in deepening despair, I gave up my T-shirts. What could they do to me next? 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 isn'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.... and I hope Cindy Crawford paid a really good price for them!

Midlife For A Woman Begins When...

· You go to the doctor and you realize you're now so old, you have to pay someone to look at you naked.
· You no longer have upper arms, you now have wingspans...
· You are no longer women in sleeveless shirts, you are now flying squirrels in drag.
· You stand naked in front of a mirror and can see your rear end. (without turning around)
· You go for a mammogram and you realize it is the only time someone will ask you to appear topless in film.
· You're in the grocery store and you hear a Muzak version of "Stairway to Heaven" in the produce department.
· You bounce (a lot), but you don't bounce back.
· Life throws you curves...and that you're now sitting on your biggest ones.
· It's very hard to "get jiggy with it" ... jiggly, yes - jiggy, no.
· Your 1970s Body-by-Jake now includes Legs-by-Rand McNally...(more red and blue lines than an accurately scaled map of the state of Tennessee).
· You want to grab every firm young lovely in a tube to and scream...
· "Listen, honey, even the Roman Empire fell, and those things will too!"
· You look at your latte-swilling, beeper-wearing know-it-all teenager and think...
· "For this I have stretch marks?!"
· Your memory really starts to go and the only thing you still retain is water.
· You become more reflective. You start pondering the "big" questions-- what is life, why am I here...how much Healthy Choice ice cream can I eat before it's no longer a healthy choice?

Ten Things You Should Never Say To A Woman During An Argument

10. "Don't you have some laundry to do or something?"
9. "Oh, you are so cute when you get all pissed off."
8. "You're just upset because your ass is beginning to spread."
7. "Wait a minute...I get it-what time of the month is it?"
6. "You sure you don't want to consult the Great Oprah on this one?"
5. "Sorry. I was just picturing you naked."
4. "Whoa, time out honey. Football is on."
3. "Looks like someone had an extra bowl of Bitch Flakes this morning."
2. "Is there any way we can do this via e-mail?"
AND ...

The Number One Thing You Should Never Say To A Woman During An Argument....

1. "Who are you kidding? We both know that thing ain't loaded..