Deb at 44

Exulting in every ounce of her flesh, Deb lets her sensuous shoulders and arms sing their own brash song of delight at being present just as she is, right here, right now, right along with everybody else.
Her foot flirts outrageously with the entire room, and she leans back her head and allows the rapture of her laughter to rise to the rafters, she allows the pleasure of her presence to radiate out from this unbridled body of hers, as loaded with roundness and ripeness as a peach tree in August, sinfully rich as whipped cream on a chocolate mousse, soft as a trampoline bounced on by feather pillows.  Deb's laughter
gives "voluptuous" back its good name.