I have no ass. Seriously. In the 52-card pick up that is my genetic legacy, I got a lovely chest, fabulous gams, and absolutely zero in the trunk department. I can’t fill out a pair of jeans to save me. I bring up my lackluster can because right now I’m wearing no underwear.
But, Rebuker, why are you wearing no underwear? you ask, shocked and vaguely titillated/repulsed.
Because, I reply, the elastic went out in the waistband of my erstwhile undies and because I have no curvature in the buttock area to hold them up, they have been slipping down all day. I couldn’t even get to the bathroom with them still at waist level.
So, in a fit of pique on the way back from class, I slipped into the bathroom and threw them away. I would rather have no britches than saggy britches.