The rest of the Golden Boys and I still like to delude ourselves that we’re not aging. That we’re still the young, handsome, studs that we always were. We’re not completely psychotic however. We can look in the mirror and see that the hands of time have been slapping us a bit. I realize that I no longer have the body of an 18 year old. That’s only because my wife found out about her and made me stop dating so much. One person who may be a bit delusional regarding the aging process is Gooby’s Mom, J.M., as we call her. After a bit of beer soaked golf yesterday in temperatures that would make Satan say, “Damn that’s hot,” Gooby and I headed to his Mom’s house for a dip in her spacious inground pool. We open the fence to the pool and what do we see? A 60 year old woman floating around in a red bikini. (I have to begin to tread very carefully here) Now for a 60 year old woman, Gooby’s Mom looks great, but she is still a 60 year old woman. In a bikini. Talking to her son. Why Gooby didn’t run screaming on his way to gouge out his eyes with a curtain rod is beyond me. If Gooby doesn’t have some Oedipal issues from a lifetime of seeing his Mom in a bikini then nobody does.
Self-proclaimed grand poobah of leisure and author of humorous suspense novels The Sneaker Tree & White Picket Prisons, the humor essay book Fifty Shades of Phil and the long running blog The Phil Factor. thephilfactor.com
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