The Caboose

NOTE: What follows may be offensive to some. Sometimes truth is turn away. Make your own decision.

I’m a butt watcher. No matter how anti-monogamist we attempt to appear, our eyes wander.

During the mid-20^th century, the focus was on the breast. Low cut cleavage and pointed bras taught young people to present as much as make-up and hair spray.

Below the belt were layers of pantaloons, stockings, girdles and straight-line skirt that disguised any shape or form.

Now with everyone wearing yoga pants, leaves little to the imagination. I suppose they are comfortable and some will cover their derriere with a sweatshirt or sweater around the waist but you can’t hide an impressive booty sway.

We all have buns. The cushion for sitting down is our gluteus maximus. Whether called the backside, behind, bottom, breech, bum, butt, buttocks, can, cheeks, duff, fundament, hams, haunches, heinie, hunkers, keister, posterior, rear, rear end, seat, tail, we all have them.

As we age, cellulose likes to accumulate on our fanny. Sitting on beanbag sofas, binge watching movies and eating snack food helps to expand our rumps.

I still may stare at a good rack or set of hooters, but my preference is a nice tush. A set of tight cheeks will give me praise to the maker for a divine job.

No, I won’t pincer or pat or even compliment avoiding the possible slap, but I will look and appreciate your caboose.