They Fell

 Carol Burnett, TV and stage star of the late 20th century, used to tug on one of her ears at the end of her TV show to signal to her watching family that things were well. It is said that after years of doing so her tugged ear hung an inch or so lower than the other.
One of the things I've always felt was good about bras, especially sports bras that, besides eliminating bounce (+/-), they also slowed down sag. Many were the topless photos from strange lands we've see as boys where the tits hung down, down, down the woman's body while in today's world, either by the lifelong use of restraints or via plastic surgery -- I do not know for sure* -- there are 60 even seventy year old breasts (or rather breasts on 70 on women years old, since the breast is never the age of the person) which still have a perkiness about them and do not, not always, hang to the belly button and beyond. 
For men, and as an overweight, older man, I used to credit my tight shirts with preventing my belly from developing AND falling! The pressure of one size too small T-Shirts, either by accident or design, kept me looking trim and the effect carried over even without the T-shirts worn 24/7. The fat did not freely travel as much so my shape remained, more or less, boxy than apple.
In addition to this, my preference of briefs over boxers also kept things in place. My entire body, from stem to stern, lashed together like the riggings on a sailboat; preventing anything from shall we say, falling overboard. 
Then came the COVID-19 virus scare of 2020. As civilization fell and people were confined to their homes (I had nowhere to go anyway) I found my clothing slowing disappearing. "Who needs shirts and t-shirts when this nice fuzzy robe is warm and never needs washed?" 
Eventually, it seems, I also lost my underpants. 
I am not quite sure WHEN it happened; I only remember a rare knock on my door and thinking, "Opps! No underwear! Keep the robe closed!" 
Thus I became, for a time, that reclusive gent down the street who lives in the dark house and is only dressed in a robe -- for a time -- hopefully ending soon. But then something bad, bad, bad happened.  A warning from those who had lived before me finally arrived!  A warning of something that should have happened back 10-20 years ago but never really occurred so I forgot about it. 
This last weekend -- they fell. 
Yes, THEY. 
I went to sleep in my robe, a normal, happy man-thing and woke up a Brahma bull. 
Oh my goodness! 
You notice this the moment you get up to pee. Where yesterday you hopped out of bed -- as much as any 240 year old man can hop out of bed – to take that morning whiz as happy as anything to have survived the night terrors, and the next day you hope out of bed and say, "DAMN! What did I run into?" It doesn't take very many steps until the answer comes back, "Yourself!" WHAT??? WAIT A MINUTE! Correction, pee first -- CAREFULLY pee first and THEN: "WHAT??!!?! What is going on here?" 
You look down and suddenly realize you do NOT have four knees -- the two you have loved all your life and two new, smaller ones, but rather the long predicted has happened and the boys have fallen in the battle of life.
 Woo-wee (and not in a nice way), what a change this brings into your life!
 You think to yourself, “No longer will I be able to use the phrase, ‘I’m just like you.  I put my pants on one leg at a time.’.”  Nope!  Now it will be:  “First leg first, careful with the load!, and last leg last.”
 No long will I jump into my pants on the floor -- outer, inner or under -- as I did in the past.  Now I shall have to jump into the pants on the floor and wait for the swinging to stop before pulling them up.
 I now have an appreciation for slowly walking along the beaten path, rather a quick, beating walk along that same path.  Now the beating I take when walking fast has a lot more notice than in the past!
A few years back, a precursor to this was given to me when I discovered that, for some reason, riding my bike reminded me more of those ancient toys, the Clackers more than the fun times I had a small child.
These days, if you see me sitting with my legs angled like a pretty girl showing her ankles, pray you do not see possible ankles from the bottom of my outerwear.
My outerwear!  I had forgotten!  In days past, ratty underwear was not an issue even while in gym shorts.  But now gym shorts will need to be paired with complete, secure underwear.  Otherwise, any exercise could be one where the looks I am getting shall not be in admiration of my hardened “guns” but of my need for longer gym shorts!
Shoot!  As I consider my new life, I cannot but wonder if there is some sort of “confinement” type of garment I am supposed to wear from here on out.  I keep imagining some sort of “backpack” but worn a LOT lower and perhaps in the front.**
 ** UPDATED:  Turns out there is.  It’s called a “Mankini” and if my abs looked like his I wouldn’t mind the need to wear it.  But they don’t so I do.
 My only hope is that when I go in for my last operation in this form, a few years from now, in addition to ridding the excessive skin (as they did in a previous surgery) they might be able to lessen my hang time by a couple of inches as well.
 Until then, I guess I’ll just walk more slowly and with greater care as well as keeping my undies as whole as possible so that the carrying aspects continue.
 Who knows?  Maybe if I start wearing underwear again, the nature absorption of skin will occur (it really does) and my luggage rack will go back to a carry-on rather than the check-in it currently is.
 *Note from above:  When speaking of some of the benefits of bras, there is a secret that possibly not even all women know about.
I had some “plastic surgery” years ago.  After some drastic weight loss, I had some excess skin removed.
I was given a pamphlet disk (CD) of before and after views of what plastic surgery could do for a person, man or woman.  As I explored the disk outside the programmed presentation, I was surprised to discover a treasure trove of before and after photos included on the disk for different presentations.  Gentlemen, and possibly some ladies, you have NO IDEA the shaping and maneuvering a bra gives to some women.
I am, and have been, beyond the giggle and pointing phase of life for most of my life.  Many are the physical mutants and people of “different dressed” activities who are surprised when I treat them like people and not the various aspects they either possess or display.
 Thus it was that when I stumbled upon the giant collection of “before” photos on the plastic surgery disk, my eyes widened and my mouth went “Oh my god!”
 Oh, this goes WAY beyond one breast hanging a foot down further than another.  This goes WAY beyond an “innie” breast that is almost belly button in aspects.
 No, no, no.  There are breast out there that are pyramid in shape.  Some that look like poorly constructed balloon animals, and others that ... even to this day I cannot accurately describe.  Let us just say that “All breasts have NOT been created equal.” and leave it at that.
I also learned that plastic surgeons also correct a LOT of stomach deformations I never would have imagined existed outside of science-fiction make-up department.
 So let’s just also say that if having children does not fix the issue, or if the issue comes AFTER the children have been weaned, please, go to a plastic surgeon for a consult.  After viewing these endless examples, I can assure you, there are very, very few oddities a plastic surgeon has not seen, even if only in pictures.
I Am Sielow, These are my words.
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