Mine does, all of a sudden, at age 41. Not that it was so high and mighty to begin with, but at least until recently there was no overhang. In fact, my butt was one of the few body parts I didn’t angst over, probably because it was behind me so I never really looked at it.But those days are gone.
When I was in summer camp back in ’79 or so, my bunkmate Liz–can’t remember her last name, but she was awesome–had huge boobs. None of the rest of us did. We were 12. She introduced us to the pencil test. For those unfamiliar, you take a pencil and you put it under your boob and if it stays up, you’re in sagville or headed there fast.
I am now going to try this with my butt. Stay tuned.
[Music from Jeopardy playing]
Good news! The pencil wouldn’t stay up. But there’s no escaping that I can now feel my butt on the back of my thighs like I couldn’t just a year ago. Chafing is inevitable. Just another joy of being 41.