Inspired by the reviews of IronMan 2,  I’ve decided I am going to be the next superhero(ine).

Really.

My legs are probably still good enough. Or so I’m told. Tights, additionally and cleverly, conceal any unsightly bumps, lumps and those insidious creeping, creepy veins. The cape, if draped carefully and dramatically, equally hides a multitude of problems. The latest Spanx should work much better than a pair of undies over the tights look, thus completing the ensemble.

Here’s my plan as to how to achieve these super human powers.

After removing my Paul Newman’s Own non butter popped Popcorn from my microwave I will brazenly stand in front of the rotating microwave dish, with my cell phone on and next to my ear. All those radioactive waves, working in consort with the tastefully selected silver jewelry I am sporting, should combine to create the new superhuman me.

Think about the possibilities.

“Put down that syringe of Botox” I’ll shout, swooping into Dr. Makeyoufeelyounger’s office, extricating Maude from his vice like grip. Maude, you see, is my soon to be side kick. The “E” I have carefully embroidered onto her consignment store bought, but designer sweater, is for her name, ExpressionlessGirl.  “Why” she implored, “if I am Expressionless Girl would you take me from the loving, supportive, molding me into looking like every other woman in his waiting room, hands of Dr Makeyoufeelyounger?”

Unable to answer that question satisfactorially, I returned her to his chair. “Inject away” I intoned.

“When you are finished with her,” I tell him, “we are making our way to the Social Security Office to aid and abet in how to make sense of the gibberish that no one can understand when having to fill out the forms they have just been handed. Then, we will continue on to repeat this action at the Medicare offices.”

Before returning home to resume our regular identities, I inform Expressionless girl of our last ‘save the day’ activity. It’s a toss up between finding the right bra, to itemizing what Anna Wintour eats during the day and publishing it for all who want to carefully follow it so they, too, can weigh the same thing as an underweight 10 year old.

A day well spent. What challenges await tomorrow?