When I was still a bit fatter as an eight-year-old boy, our family went to visit my 93-year-old great-grandmother for tea and cookies. After a pleasant half hour of conversation, she jokingly pinched one of my rolls of fat. Without thinking, I gently squeezed her stomach again. Everyone started laughing. I laughed a bit, but I thought the laughter of the rest was exaggerated. Until my mother explained in the car home that everything tends to sag a bit with older women. Then I realized I hadn’t squeezed her stomach.
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