The other day at breakfast (why is it always at breakfast that these conversations spring up in my house?) I was flipping through my Health magazine, carefully scanning for risque material (you know that's a euphemism for articles about s-e-x, right?) and quickly turning past them. I had paused on a fitness page to check out the exercises (deciding if mortal girls could do them, or only Weightlifting Queens), when Derek glanced up from his Cheerios to ask, "Why is that woman only wearing a sports bra? Shouldn't she have a shirt?" I thought it was a fair point, but I explained that probably the magazine's Workout Experts wanted to show you the proper arm and shoulder positions for performing the exercises properly.
This satisfied him...for approximately 3 seconds, at which point he casually inquired, "What are sports bras for, anyway?" Oh dear. How to be delicate. "Well, honey, they kind of press down on a woman's chest, to keep it from jiggling when she runs or jumps." I was just thinking, "yay, me!" and mentally patting myself on the back for that appropriately vague, yet descriptive and accurate response...when he suddenly leaped off his stool, spun away from me, waggled his tushie vigorously in my direction and shouted, "oh, yeah, well my BUTT jiggles; what am I gonna do about that?"
Clearly, Derek knows his audience, as he caused Riley to snarf his chocolate milk. And all I could think was: aargh, AGAIN with the butts! And I need WAAAAY more coffee if this is what passes for our Family Breakfast Discussion!
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