We're
getting ready for bed, and I have my back to the room, pulling the curtains
closed.
From
behind me, a voice: "Your
butt in pajamas might be my favorite thing ever."
I snerk,
turning around. From the waist
down, I am built along Kardashian lines, in that inescapable genetic way that
no diet or exercise will ever change. "I'm glad you think so," I tell him, "because my butt
caters to a niche market."
He throws
up his hands and announces happily, "I am your niche!"
Sometimes
it's just that simple, you know?
