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Monday, February 6, 2012

Butt Crack Mail Slot

My son is going to grow up to be a nudist.  From infancy on, he’d pull and tug at his clothes until he escaped from their confines.  He’s now 11 years old and while he manages to keep clothes on in public, the second he walks in the door from school (or anywhere else from that matter) he begins stripping down to his skivvies.  It is a common site for me to walk in from work, see his back pack thrown down just inside the door, his jacket tossed on the couch, his shoes a few feet away in the middle of the floor, his pants a few feet further, with his shirt completing the trail from the front door to the kitchen for a snack.  It is also common for me to come in from work thinking, “Are you freaking kidding me?!” yelling “SON!!!  GET YOUR TAIL IN HERE AND CLEAN UP YOUR TRAIL!!!”  I’ve tried many different techniques to discourage this behavior, yet it continues.

My son is not a little guy.  Even at 11 years old, he’s bigger than many 15-year-olds and has got a butt crack that would make a professional plumber green with envy. Usually he wears boxer briefs which aren’t so bad, but one day, not too long ago, he came walking into the living room, plops down on the couch wearing nothing but his tighty-whities, butt crack smiling at us, to watch TV with my 16 year old daughter and me.  We both exchanged exasperated looks before I said to him, “Son, how would you like it if your sister and I decided we’d be more comfortable wearing nothing but our underwear as we watched TV with you?” He just rolled his eyes at me as if to say, “Yeah right mom, you wouldn’t do that.” He then averted his eyes back to the TV completely unmoved by my not-so-subtle hinting for him to go put some damn clothes on.  My daughter and I exchanged a glance, then a smirk, and without another word, to my son’s mortification, off came the clothes.

We both pretended he wasn’t even in the room as we stripped down to nothing but our bras and panties, and plopped back down in our respective seats.  I said to my daughter, “No wonder he’s always in his underwear.  I can’t believe we’ve been missing out on this.  I feel so comfortable, so free!  I may never wear clothes in the house again.” My daughter in complete concurrence says, “I know!  This is awesome.  I might even quit wearing a bra!”  My son was mortified.  His face bright red, a wide eyed look of sheer terror at seeing us both lounging around half naked, and the thought of us going braless was more than he could handle.  Shrieking, “Mama!  That’s disgusting!  I don’t want to see you guys’ butts and boobs!” He ran from the room leaving my daughter and me laughing till our sides hurt.  We stayed in our bras and panties until he came out with clothes on.

For a while the thought of us lounging around wearing nothing but our panties encouraged him to wear more than just his underwear, though, lately he’s been pushing the boundaries again.  So last week, I call the kids to dinner, and my son comes to the table wearing only a pair of boxer briefs and a t-shirt (at least he’s wearing a shirt, so I wasn’t going to bitch).  We’re at the table eating and talking.  My daughter is talking about how cute some little kid is, and my son pipes in, “I’m cute!” to which I reply “You guys are both long past cute.” He got a wounded look but quickly recovered and changed his strategy saying, “So what am I then?  Oh, I know…I’m SEXY!”  Without missing a beat, I say, “You’re obviously too sexy for your pants!” About that time, my daughter pipes in, “And I swear your butt crack is a mile long.”  I noticed her grimacing as about half a mile of his mile long butt crack was exposed from beneath his shirt.  I couldn’t help but observe “It looks like a change slot…like you should be dropping quarters in it.” To which she retorts “Heck no, I feel like I should be swiping credit cards!”  The conversation continued, my daughter and I playing off each other till we finally concluded it was more like a mail slot deserving of its own address. 

I wish I could say that this exchange has convinced my son to remain clothed while in the common areas of the house, but as write this blog, he is wondering around the house wearing nothing but his underwear, his mail slot shining.  Maybe I’ll start sewing addresses to the seat of his underwear as it looks like there’s no end in sight to his assault on our eyes.  If only I could sew a button on his back to fasten his underwear to!

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