I Confess Yet Another Fault

A few years ago I was staying in a very nice hotel. My room had a large bathroom with a lot of mirrored surface. After I checked in I showered off the road dust, so to speak, and when I got out of the shower I realized that my ass had gone missing.

Now, I’m not someone who looks at or obsesses over my ass. That’s why I was surprised to see that it was no longer there when I was offered all the mirror views in the bathroom at that hotel. I wondered how long it had been missing, and why I hadn’t noticed earlier that my ass looked like a pressed ham on a photocopier. They are right, getting old isn’t for sissies.

It all started coming together for me. Now I understood why I constantly had to adjust my pants, there was no ass there to hold them up. I figured it wouldn’t be long before I would have to submit suspenders or bib overalls into my daily dressing routine.

I think back to the County Fair this summer, and all the private laughs I had every time I saw some of the old guys dressed this way because they realized that their asses were gone as well. I’m right behind you fellows. I’m wasting too much time yanking my pants back up. Sometimes it happens at a dangerous time; like last weekend when I was on a ladder with a tool belt and a pneumatic framing nailer in one hand, and a large plank in the other hand. At one point my pants slipped below the tool belt, but luckily my flannel shirt had me covered. I had a good laugh when got back to the ground and collected myself.

I think I’ll start off with suspenders, and I’ll reserve the bibs for another physical crisis that I’m sure the future is holding for me.