I can no longer hide my waddle. I mean it’s not like I can get a Spanx to hold it in place. A cervical collar is just overboard and very hot. Turtlenecks are no longer an option as I live in Florida. In addition, I feel like that would actually work like a push-up bra for my neck. I don’t need my waddle peeking over the top. Short of plastic surgery, my waddle is waddling happily. I don’t really concentrate on it, to be honest. I figure if I just wear a smile, I can pull off anything.
I was sitting on a garden swing with my three-year-old granddaughter when I noticed her staring at my neck. Keeping in the garden theme, I asked, “What’s up, Buttercup?” She climbed onto my lap and giggled. An inspection of my waddle was in order. My head was tilted back as she examined it closely. Ami touched my giggly thing and jumped back. “Gigi, it moves!” she shrieked.
I told her that’s where Gigi stores her wisdom. She squinted at me and cocked her head. With her blonde hair blowing in the breeze and her blue eyes peeking from her bangs, she asked, “What’s wisdom?”
I should have told her it bites so she’d find something else to amuse her, but I wasn’t prepared for all this attention. For half an hour, she was enthralled with my waddle. So many questions followed: “Does Pop have a waddle? Can I get one? Why is it so soft? How does it move like that? Does it hurt if I push on it?” By the time she lost interest, my poor waddle looked like a hickey from all her prodding and pinching.
I did the only thing I could think of as I rubbed my neck. I yelled, “Your brothers are eating all the ice cream!” Like a flash, she was off my lap and running through the garden. As I scooped the ice cream, I heard her tell her brothers, “Did you know Gigi has a waddle? It’s really soft and it wiggles. She keeps her wisdom in it. I’m going to get one too.”
Naturally, I felt honored and quickly carried the ice cream to the table. “Who wants more ice cream?” I asked.
Wasn’t that the wise thing to do? I thought so.
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