Winner of the Body Language Contest!
The first place winner of the Body Language Contest is

C. Hope Clark

With the following entry:

The arthritic bones in her fingers fought her effort to grasp the hairbrush with a ratchet effect that made her expect to see white hair in the mirror instead of her 40-year-old brunette shag.

Her stuffy nose felt like modeling clay in the middle of her face.

Her neck rose long and white above the neck of the olive mohair sweater as if the expensive garment had to compete for the compliment of "lovely."

Why is it that her tanned, smooth, delicate feet, flaunted in bejeweled sandals and smelling of gardenia lotion, make mine ashamed to be attached to my legs?

Lipstick now invades the wrinkles of age around lips that once made the boys practice kisses against their bathroom mirrors.

When notified about her win, Hope responded:

"What wonderful news! I'm excited! I have such a desire to write fiction and spend every day dealing in nonfiction, and when I saw your contest, I thought - why not? This would measure whether I could create strings of fabricated visions rather than report on the facts. This is a go ahead for me to start a fiction project I've postponed for several years."

Honorable Mention!

An honorable mention goes to the following entries:

Ramona Siddoway for this entry:

Her fingernails were perfectly shaped - a natural length stopping just at the edge of her fingertips, slightly raised in the middle and gently cascading on either side to meet the frame of each and every digit. The crowning beauty of this masterpiece, the pièce de resistance was the milky-white, crescent-shaped moons that adorned the bottom of her nail. It was the evening setting of a creamy sun amongst the backdrop of a pearl pink sky, lowering into a sea of silky peach delight.

The Adam’s Apple danced, loosely covered with folds of weathered, leathered, sweaty skin. The knob protruded from the neck, almost as an afterthought by the creator, adorned as a hasty embellishment. Too big to stay in, too late to pull out.

Kim Csizmazia  for this entry:

As she drove, her fingers danced a chorus line to U2 rocking through the car. Slender digits high kicked at red lights. Thick, metallic-blue fingernails jitterbugged through the fake leopard skin covering the steering wheel. Bejeweled knuckles glided in a Tango. Her fingers danced the can-can across the steering wheel as she drove.

Her nose was a predator, a fire throwing dragon. It lay flat on her face stalking his faults, ferreting them out with huge upturned nostrils. Like a double barreled shotgun they shot snot at his every misstep. Her nose lay flat on her face stalking his faults, ferreting them out with huge upturned nostrils.

Sharon Lewis for this entry:

It frightened him so much, his lips cinched tight in a sphincter reaction, and the only sound he could make when air finally escaped was an eerie whistle.