I remember my apron in the closet right after I’ve stirred a batch of cookies or finished kneading bread dough. Since I’m not a neat baker, I generally end up with flour all down the front of my fuzzy red bathrobe. The robe emphasizes my wide butt and post menopausal belly, giving the effect of an abominable snowman with a sunburn. And why is it that I always wipe my hands on my butt, leaving big white handprints on my generous ass? Continue reading →