Anatomy of the Pact

Anatomy of the Pact

by Adrianne Chance and Kristina Shatto

Published by AZKatz Publishing at Smashwords

Copyright Adrianne Chance and Kristina Shatto

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012950740

ISBN 978-0-9829258-2-9

Cover and Book Interior Design and Photos

by Brenda Cockrum – AZKatz Publishing

https://www.azkatz.net

Contents

Chapter 1 - In the Beginning

Chapter 2 - Filling in Some of the Blanks

Chapter 3 - Adrianne's First Procedure

Bits of Conversation

Laser Procedure Day

Chapter 4 - Kristina’s Procedure

Chapter 5 - Adrianne's Neck Lift

Resurfacing Do's & Don’ts

Appendix A – Do’s and Don’ts

After Neck Lift Do's and Don’ts

Tummy Tuck Do's and Don’ts

Other Things to Consider

Appendix B – Sample Pre/Post Charts

Appendix C - Sample Drain Chart

Appendix D - Drugs and their Applications

Appendix E - References

Appendix F - Suggested reading sites

Contact Authors

About Authors

-- PREFACE --

What is it about the number 13? Superstition says it isn’t a good number, and causes many of us to be leery of Friday the 13th, and buildings with elevators have no floor stops with the number 13. In numerology, 13 is the number of upheaval, so new ground can be broken. In the Bible, the number 13 represents the governments of men in rebellion against God.

So… what kind of pact could two women have made that took 13 years to consummate? And… is this 13 a good number for them?

Is their pact to enroll in a knife-tossing course? Take a walk on the wild side on an African Safari? Sleep with the lions and run with the elephants? Become a bazillioniare? Buy a Lamborghini?

No, it isn’t any of these. However, it does involve a bit of burn, slice and stitch. No… it’s not how to torture someone you don’t like. Now don’t go thinking it’s something criminal either, because we broke no laws!

Before we go much further, let me take you back to…

Chapter 1

In the Beginning

There were two friends who were of like mind. They were conservative in thought, time and money. Neither was prone to doing anything she might consider foolish, especially when it came to spending the almighty dollar until… well… until one day time took control.

Although I thought of my pact partner as a youngun’ I had a notion she might be game for what I was about to propose. Worst case, she’d just laugh at me, and I’d take my little adventure alone.

I was turning fifty at the end of the year. The powers that be had as yet to declare a half century as the new middle age. If this is true, I missed getting the message. I wouldn’t have believed it anyway. It wasn’t too many decades ago people couldn’t expect to live much past forty-five.

We still looked good in the wrinkle category, the boobs were firm and perky and the buttocks hung where they were supposed to be. However, we knew our days were numbered, and the toll of gravity would soon claim our face, boobs, gut, and butt. I wanted to give my husband a special gift for our upcoming anniversary, and I had heard of something called Glamour Shots®. A couple of people I knew had them done, and they looked wonderful. So I decided what the hey. Then I thought, wait a minute, I want a ‘partner in crime’, so I asked Kristina if she would like to take the plunge. She agreed so we did. This was step one in the Pact.

I remember the young woman who did my makeup and hair. I know now why they call them makeup artists. With very little mascara, foundation and some well-placed blush, she made us look great. My hair had never looked so good. I told her I wanted to pack her up and take her home. I could then let her out every morning to perform her miracle on me. She laughed. I hoped it was because she liked my sense of humor, especially since there was only so much she could do within the powers of her skill and the tools of her trade.

After the hair and makeup session, we picked out several outfits for the photo shoot. There were more selections than my mind could take in. Some left me wondering how the dickens could I keep the outfit from falling off. There were no zippers or buttons. These outfits were one size fits all. Not to worry, these folks knew their business and made it all seem like a piece of cake. Their secret to keeping the outfit on was all in the marvelous use of safety pins!

Suited up and outfits in line, we were ready to proceed, or maybe I should say perform. I have to declare, the photographer was good, very good. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have made a rat’s patootie how great we looked in the mirror, even with all the makeup and hair miracles the makeup artist had just worked.

We were fortunate enough to have a photographer with a good eye. This fellow was a real professional and knew just the right poses. I’m one of those folks who no matter which way I turn; I never look good in a photo. He knew all the right angles. Kristina always looks good, so I’ll speak for myself here. Photogenic I definitely am not, so I had my doubts if he could continue to drive the miracle train.

When he started shooting, I realized we didn’t know what we had gotten ourselves into. Thinking back, pain comes to mind. I believe he thought we were contortionists. He asked us to turn sideways, lean forward, now push the legs back more, turn sideways more, now hold!

Did I mention we were sitting on a tiny, and I mean very tiny stool? This thing was only large enough to use as a bookstand for a single novel.

Imagine going through all those contortions. We were being asked to smile without gritting our teeth, balance one cheek on the stool and manage to not fall off or look strained. Complying with this feat is what I call true multi-tasking.

Of course, this locomotion was expected with every wardrobe change. Fortunately, the fellow was good at making you laugh so the smiles turned out to look natural, not the pained look you were actually feeling.

After the picture taking adventure, the anticipation of what the photos were going to look like was enough to make one antsy. The photos had to be developed and processed, then presented to us in a commercial package. As I recall, we had to wait a full two weeks before we received the proofs.

Keep in mind; this was well before the wonderful electronic cameras of today and no magic touchup software, only the makeup artist to cover-up our faults. We weren’t disappointed with the results. Although pleased with the photographs, we knew we wouldn’t always look as good as the pictures portrayed.

Some folks will age gracefully, and you won’t hear a whimper about the cheeks that mimic a prune. Worse yet, a neck floppy enough to win the turkey wattle contest. Others accept what comes with aging and remain forever happy, while the rest of us just want to stop the trouncing of time.

Being the intelligent souls we are, only a small amount of time passed before reality set in. We weren’t getting any younger, and we knew another decade would take its toll. I don’t remember which one of us came up with the rest of ‘The Pact’, nor do I remember exactly how it was put. What we needed was a plan to help us regain the youthful appearance we’d enjoyed in times gone by. We were fading and fading fast.

Simply, it came down to the two of us not peacefully accepting the march of time. Oh no… no…! Not us! We became what I like to call time ‘trouncers’!

Chapter 2

Filling in some of the Blanks

Maybe some background is in order, to understand better the psyche of why we would do something like this. Writing about our experience may even give us a clue. The following is some of what the two of us were all about before, between, and after the pact was made.

Some of our friends have even commented about never pegging us as being vain. Yet those who get up daily and put on a pound of makeup essentially do the same thing. I say this is being vain also. They, too, are catering to their vanity under the guise of wanting to look better. I am way too lazy to expend the energy necessary to regain a youthful look. Besides, I don’t want to scare myself once the makeup comes off.

Many things we do make us think we look better. Tattooing is a form of decoration too, and those thusly embellished enjoy what they think makes a statement about their character. Whatever ‘enhancement’ we choose, it all boils down to the eye of the beholder.

Most of our friends have been complimentary and supportive. I know deep down, some think we were nuts for doing this. To those folks I say, maybe we are. Besides, spicy and nutty friends are fun, right?

If you haven’t already guessed, this book is about the procedures we had performed, more commonly known or referred to as cosmetic or plastic surgery. Personally, I don’t like the term plastic, we had nothing plastic inserted. It was more of a removal of what the passing of time and gravity had done to us. Younger years gone, the wrinkles, sagging muscles and the loose skin were showing.

It is our intention to lay out the procedures we had done along with what we experienced during the daily recovery process. Even with all our research, neither of us had uncovered a day-by-day account of this process. Part of making an informed decision is to have all the facts. Our goal is to impart information to others so they don’t go into the process as blind as we were.

Between the two of us, we had three procedures performed. I had two and Kristina had one. Each procedure is covered in a diary-like form in order to more accurately lay out our experience on a daily/weekly basis.

We want to make one thing clear. Our experiences are unique to us, although some of the recovery process is common to all.

I won’t discuss how much the procedures cost. This varies geographically and depends on the doctor. The important financial matter is we feel what we spent was worth it, and we had good doctors performing the work.

The beginning few pages will cover a little background for each of us. As this is in a diary format, thoughts of other events around us occasionally crept into our writings.

We have included appendices to cover some do’s and don’ts, information worth repeating, and other considerations. Included in the appendices are sample pre/post-surgery charts, drugs and their applications, general verbiage, products and places and lastly, references.

We believe our bits and pieces of information will be helpful and useful to someone who may be considering any one of the procedures we underwent.

Chapter 3

Adrianne’s

First Procedure

Growing up, my life could best be described as dull. I had a mother with a Mormon background and a father who was a WWII prisoner of war vet, turned alcoholic. I think I could describe us as the typical dysfunctional family of the era and by some standards, a perfectly normal family.

My junior and high school years were spent as a little above average student. Too many home chores never allowed me much time to study, so how I was able to maintain my grades is a puzzle to me. Since I was allowed to participate in school activities, I turned to sports as a way to escape the home environment. I guess one could say I was a female sports jock in high school. This may have been the only thing that kept me from doing something foolish like getting married at 16, just to get away from home.

After high school graduation, I moved to Washington, D.C. While there, I worked for the government, first for Housing and Urban Development (HUD), then transferred to National Institutes of Health (NIH).

While living and working downtown in the District of Columbia (D.C.), I also met my husband. I still joke with him occasionally about how he tricked me into marrying him.

Several years and moves later I found myself in the teaching profession. I loved working in the primary education system. However, once I realized that without discipline in the schools we would be raising a nation of brats, I made the difficult choice to leave the profession. Looking back, unfortunately, I see I was right. We were raising children who would rule the adults.

Although it saddened me to leave the teaching profession, I went back to school and found I had a second passion. On a lark, I decided to get a degree in an area that has served me well. Trained as a computer analyst-programmer and the logic it requires, can easily be applied to many fields and processes. With maybe the exception of one… being able to understand my husband’s logic, or any man’s logic. Um… Yes, it seems the opposite sexes will be Venus and Mars forever.

During the earlier years of our marriage, we had moved where my husband’s jobs were. Leaving a metropolitan area such as Washington, D.C. for small rural towns left little in the way of a diverse job market. Therefore, I would work whatever occupation I could find. Because of this, I had to become a ‘Jill of all Trades’, yet a master of none.

Having a minor in business left me the option to