Decorating what you really aught to be hiding

It has been said of my own weary calf muscles: “holy moly, such well defined calf muscles!” That is because I have calf muscles so well defined they should be pickled after I’m dead, for artists to draw from, photographed and posted on calf fetish sites, and fashioned as toys for fox terriers. If ever I have plastic surgery, it will be for a nose enlargement, and calf reduction.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Being so endowed of gastrocnemius, it perplexes me that today’s youth—who let’s face it, don’t ride far or hard on their track bikes—would draw the world’s attention, by way of tattoos, to calf muscles better suited to jeans.

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