Saturday, July 30, 2016

     I sometimes wonder if other people are like me. Whenever or wherever I go, I enter that “bubble.” If I am in a car showroom, nothing exists outside the new car bubble. If I am in a kitchen remodeling showroom, I disappear into the granite bubble. Are you like this? There could be a herd of mountain goats rushing the showroom, and I would be lost in door knobs. I’m not saying this is a good or bad thing; it’s just a thing. 

     Mr. Wonderful is easily distracted, as are some of my friends. I can be in a deep discussion with a friend, and she can see a woman with a firm buttocks walking a baby, and she will stop short, interrupt me and comment on the woman’s fit rear. Hello? Why is that interrupt-worthy?

     This photo appeared yesterday with the caption, “Rear of the Year.” Are you effen kidding me? Since when has our attention gravitated to our cheeks? I guess it’s better than the political arena, but don’t we have more substance than our glutes? I suppose this guy could have easily won his title, but surely, we have better awards to consider like “Meek of the Week” or “Love Power of the Hour.”

     When I was a teen-ager, my rear was so big, I had to cover it with my sweatshirt. I had a friend, Nancy, who weighed in at 220. When I hung out with her, my rear shrank in comparison, so that made my pathetic little ego feel better. Boy, would I like a bit of that bulk today. I used to go to the gym and use this machine that vibrated your buttocks so it would fall off. Never happened. Well, actually, it did about 20 years ago, and I’ve been using machines to build it up ever since. Oh, my.

     So I wonder how you win this award, “Rear of the Year.” Do they line up the contenders in a row somewhere, and the “Rear” judges scrutinize and vote? I was always taught that bringing up the rear wasn’t necessarily appropriate. Do the contenders have to perform any “rear” stunts. Oh, my. Maybe they just count to three. and everyone flexes. This is not a pretty image. I think I will just skip this “bubble,” or maybe this is where the term “bubble butt” comes from. 


      Time to get ready for the morning bike ride. The biking bubble is all good except the helmet. I don’t like the helmet. It’s bad enough that I have to pedal without my stilettos, but meeting people for the first time without my hair-crown-poof is another thing. The good part though is that biking is good for the butt. Butt, of course, you already knew that.