Behold The Leg of SafeT
That such a leg exists within my house is a fact that, along with fatherhood and male-pattern-baldness, stands as a miracle within my mind.
Twin pedestal of firm meat, what cannibal wouldn’t gladly pay the buffet charge to sample my calf-flesh? Ah, but they’d probably be tough. No matter, really, that’s why God gave us marinade. They’ll soon be tender.
Pay no attention to the pale, pink-dappled hairiness of the ascendant thighs. They are firm as well, and look like a deliciously plucked turkey ready for the roaster. A pilgrim’s delight come Thanksgiving, and I get to hide them in my pants all year long. How lucky am I! How lucky are those Dockers!
How much work do these rocky prominences require? I polish them with Lemon Scented Pledge to the point where they shine and… I can SEE MYSELF! Now that’s clean. I drizzle butter and Old Spice upon them and, after each additional application, I check the intensity of its olfactory impact upon my dog.
When she finally slinks off, tail between her legs and whimpering, then I know I’m ready to go out. Don’t worry, the damage to Tera the dog’s ego is purely temporary. I’ll praise her doggy legs and furry tail later. She’ll be ready to sniff my legs again tomorrow.
My slacks lay like a tarp upon a waiting jet fighter, covering the divine legs throughout the workday. Can you blame me if I hike the hem up occasionally to “adjust” my socks? An involuntary sigh escapes my lips whenever I do so, despite the fact that I steel myself each and every time.
”I’m going to see the legs. Don’t react…don’t react…,” I say to myself, but still the legs are revealed and, “OH!! Ahh….”
SafeT Legs brought to you by Dance Dance Revolution and In The Groove. Electric hokey-pokey for the 21st Century.
I am speechless with awe and amazement. I shall print out this picture and hang it on my husband’s mirror and tell him he should aspire to this level of greatness.
You know, you keep on about how out of shape you are. You look in perfectly decent shape to me. You might have fallen arches though.
Tell me again how your thighs glisten! Wax lyrical about your rocky prominences! Waxing itself is unnecessary as you are a man, and anyway, what down! What fluff! What splendid leg hairs they are! And such a pretty ankle! All this and I can’t even experience the olfactory factor!
Rayne:And well you should! Those military types are so flabby.
Sam, PCB: Ah, but I studiously avoided taking a picture of my large, flabby buttocks and industrial grade love handles. As for my rocky prominences, that will have to wait another time.
Sam, PCB:One last thing–you mentioned arches. Never had ‘em, never will. I have a congenital defect known as “flat feet.” Makes shoe buying a challenge, since so many quality shoes assume that everyone has arches.
I kid you not: My feet are SO flat that they actually make sucking noises if I walk barefoot on the kitchen floor.
*smuck!* *smuck!* *smuck!* go my feet…
Mighty impressive. I couldn’t hope to compete. My calves would be better described as “jiggly.”
Much more entertaining, though. I can sit and watch them go for hours.
I think I’d find them entertaining, too! Send a clip.
And if you spent as much time playing DDR as your did with Guitar Hero II, then you’d have an unbalanced physique like me!
Flabby body suspended over gorgeous legs.
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