From the pages of her Elle blog, Anne Slowey provides us with way too much information:
"Imagine that you are watching TV jetlagged in the middle of the night in a hotel in Milan and somewhere near the porno channels you've paid 20 euros to watch, there is a commercial of a slightly seedy looking brunette in a bathing suit lying on a couch, smoking a cigarette, eating potato chips, and flipping through a magazine while watching TV and using a channel changer. At first you think it's porn but then you realize she has all these white circular pads on her thighs, ass, and tummy (she's lying on her side of course trying to look sexy) with all these electrodes attached to the pads. Porn with electrodes? But no, it's an ad for some crazy cellulite-deleting, muscle-toning machine.
Whenever I saw those commercials I'd scream, "Sign me up!" But alas, I could never find them in the States, even in SkyMall magazines on planes. But thanks to a gift certificate to Exhale, my dream of having my ass electrocuted has finally come true.
The Exhale Power Body Detox by Ionithermie, from a French company no less (At last, other than fashion, a useful contemporary contribution from France since the depressed rants of the amphetamine-addicted existentialists!). It promises a loss of eight inches per treatment. I'm not sure that's true but a lesbian did tell me my ass looked small yesterday so maybe it is! But despite my Frankenbutt treatments (I've had five, one more to go) I still can't fit into half the clothes in my closet. Granted, I need to lose another 20 lbs to achieve that. Obviously, I have a problem. I buy clothes, and I mean thousands and thousands of dollars worth of designer labels in sizes too small as motivation to get fit. Okay, maybe I'm deranged, but there's this one navy satin Lanvin peaked-seamed skirt I am hell-bent on getting into at the shows in Paris. So I'm back on the Jill Pettijohn fast to give my ass electrocutions a boost."
"But, what the heck? All I have to do for my derriere to be happy is moon people and scream, "Free your ass?" Sorry, butt psychic. I am electrocuting the hell out of it at Exhale, scrunching and bumping it at Physique 57, and doing another week of juice fasting with Jill Pettijohn. Putting my ass’s happiness before my desire for a svelte silhouette is just ass-backwards. Ten days and counting…I'm getting into that Lanvin skirt, even if it means I can't bend at the waist and need two goons hauling me around by the arms around like a rusted Tin Man. To hell with my repressed ass, it's Lanvin or bust. But my breasts, alas, are a whole other story. But I’m down 13 pounds in a month! Yeah!!!"
Wow. Somebody needs to switch to decaf.
And eat a burger.
[Photo: Getty Images]