The Wisdom of MathMan

MathMan, bless his heart, was full of one liners this weekend.  Sadly, most of them revolved around my breasts.  I swear, it's like the pair of them are a third person in the relationship.  Thankfully, they don't ask for much.  Just an occasional tweezing of the rogue hair (WHAT is THAT all about?) and a good bra (alas, they are often denied).  Oh and they do appreciate being released by the bra, any bras, as soon as the clock strikes 8:00 p.m.

So this man of mine, this light of my life, this guy who helps me figure out percentages, he wakes up on Sunday morning and announces "I like sleeping with big naked boobs."

I blink awake.  "But I'm wearing pants," I yawn.

"You're even funnier without your shirt on," he said before getting up to go weigh himself and pee.  Actually, it's the other way around.  We're all about bragging about our weight loss to each other these days.  You can pretty much the determine the tone of the day by what happens first thing in the morning in the bathroom.  If there's a Woot! it's going to be a good day.  If there's a a "Damn it, I shouldn't have had that half a pizza before bed," it's going to be a tuna over greens day.  Those are not particularly happy days.

Same morning, a little while later, MathMan lay absentmindedly tweaking my nipple while I checked my email on my phone. I'd bet cash money he was using my body while he fantasized about the other woman, Calculus.  The tramp.

"Do you mind?" I skeezed out.   I can take only so much nipple tweaking before I'm compelled to ask the tweaker for an explanation.  "What are you doing?"

He continued to stare off into space.  "I'm communicating."

Family therapists, please take note.  Nipple tweaking is an effective means of "communicating."  I pinched his penis and said, "What I hear you saying is......"

We continued to lollygag about in the bed.  Sadly, that is not a euphemism.  We had other people's kids in the house, you see.  That will keep us locked in our room, looking for entertainment that doesn't make the springs squeak, I tell you what.

I rolled over and one of my ridiculously large breasts became uncovered.  MathMan was on the scene immediately.  "That's better," he smiled.  He put a hand on the exposed flesh and said, "Don't want to let this go to waste."

The rest of the morning went on in the same vein.  Me in need of coffee, but reluctant to leave the room unrestrained.  My breasts in need of some serious corralling.  MathMan waxing poetic about them while thinking about math concepts that are completely over my head.  Probably over my breasts' heads, too, but they'd never tell.  They're always putting on airs like that.

Finally, the Spokescat, who had been rattling our bedroom doorknob and begging for food for what seemed like hours got on my last nerve.  Even all the mammary chat couldn't distract me any longer. I threw the covers off and growled, "That's it, I'll put on a bra.  I can't go around scaring those other kids."

MathMan had a solution for that.  "And that is why we should always say no to letting the kids' friends sleepover.  I guess I better put on some pants, too."

And then he went back to thinking about Calculus.  I'm sure of it.

What's your favorite body part?  Are you a face person?  Do you look at a person's hands first?  A butt aficionado?  Or is it the eyes?  How about the spleen?  I'm rather fond of venting mine........okay, your turn to talk.  I'm shutting up now.