Butt-Check

I don’t have a butt.  Sure, from a strictly physiological standpoint I am normal.  What I lack is the protruding, “nice” part of the butt.

Apparently, some of the slacks I own accentuate my lack of a rear bumper—a look akin to that of a deflated balloon.  My color matching ability is also in question.

Yesterday, I was invited to a graduation luncheon honoring twenty apprentices graduating from the Montana Electrical JATC program.  I needed to look decent for that.  After staring into the closet and shuffling through pairs of pants on my own for a bit, I realized that I was over my head, sartorially.

I called that girl to the bedroom. 

“I need a butt-check.” I explained.  “And, while you’re here, match me.”

That girl laughed and then said something rather disparaging.  I think she actually meant to tell me I was handsome.

She’s nice that way.

After a couple of my own false starts, I think she got me put together pretty well.

--Mitchell Hegman