Today I’m departing from my usual banter about science. And Indians. And ways-of-knowing.
My readers give me permission from time-to-time to lapse into narrative, and I am grateful for the opportunity to wax personal. Wey-wee-nah (thank you).
My honey and I observed that many of the women walking the streets of Portlandia choose to wear thick tights or leggings.
Some tights are fat as sweaters, covering bumps and curves with a soft weight. And sometimes tights enhance the bumps and curves, enfolding the lass in sweet spandex.
Out-loud I observed that a longish sweater or skirt enhances the leggy-look although some women eschew the swath of fabric in favor of a bared derriere.
My honey said what’s needed is an ass cover.
You know, an ass cover, he said.
At first I thought he meant a short skirt. Or a short dress. Maybe he meant culottes that wed dress with short. Or skort.
But my honey is clueless.
His calls the fabric that enfolds the nether region an ass cover.
Not a skirt or dress or short or slip.
And when he retrieved the mail he dropped a catalog in my lap and pointed to the picture of a woman cavorting on the beach in summer togs.
Here’s your catalog of ass covers, he said.