Dear Body

Summer Vacation Day 3

Dear Body-o-Mine,

When I was young and hairless and svelt, I was paralyzed by anxiety and modesty; thus, I hated you.

Now I am nigh on thirty-three, pruney, with a body thrice ravaged by childbirth; thus I am resigned to you.

However, based on what I’ve seen today at the beach . . .

when I become an old leather saddle

with tiny boobs that sag like a half filled sandwich bag

with the anxiety of youth and the vanity of middle age far behind

. . . then I will befriend you, tattoo you, bikini you, and show you to the sun.

Just know, Body-o-mine, your day is coming. Wrinkle up Girl!


The Low Ryder


Dear Low Ryder,

Our butt cheeks are hanging out of this bathing suit. No one wants to see that.


Your Body

P.S. Wrinkle your own self up, you ungrateful skinny Hag!

2 thoughts on “Dear Body

  1. Ok, I literally teared up at the line “tiny boobs that sag like a half filled sandwich bag”. You are hysterical. I promise I will post soon.

  2. Read this and thought of your post: “Haven’t you seen one of those 60-year-old behemoths on the beach, proceeding imperially down the shoreline like a glorious Adonis, even though his rock-hard, hairy, sunburned, hassock-sized belly alone takes up more property than the typical starter home? But he doesn’t care! He is who he is, and he’s going to strut his stuff.”
    It’s from, but if you read the article, just know that I’m not endorsing it.

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