Yes.

Dear Shiddy, I'm really not sure what I can say about this photo I took at the local fairgrounds. I think I will let you draw your own conclusions.

Middle age, not the middle ages

Dear Shiddy: There comes a time when you find yourself pulling up your panties and the elastic begins to make a horrible crackling sound. Long sigh. Not because of girth issues per se (that could be the topic of another post), but because you have been continuously wearing undies from your early 20's and it is time to give them up and buy some new, grownup skivvies.

This then commences a whole psychological reevaluation of where you are in your life, what type of provisioner you should be buying age-appropriate undies from (VS, aerie, Wal-mart, Nordstrom, 7-11, etc.), what the purchase says about your standing in the world. All because you need a butt-covering.

Editor's note: I recognize I used three different words for what my husband would simply call "underdoo." Look people, I have to use my English degrees for something.

Hot knobs

Dear Middy: Did I ever tell you about the time I ran screaming and naked into a room? I had been trying to operate a snakish "showerhead" that was attached to the faucet of an ancient bathtub. Hot knobs caused me to drop the thing, and a coiling spray of scalding water followed me around the bathroom. Only option: to break through to the room where I knew both my parents were sitting. I was 15, and we were on a church retreat.

What office supplies can teach us.

Regarding the first period after pregnancy

Dear Shiddy: Oh, silly me, I didn't realize I needed 18 layers of pantyliner to supplement my OB Max tampon! Oh, oh, maybe I ought to have worn two pads, plus a couple of pantyliners. AND then shoved 3 or 4 tampons up there to make sure my skirt isn't speckled with blood and mucus. Good thing I have money to throw at the dry cleaners. The wadded up tampon-in-toilet paper is reminiscent of a spider wrapping its prey.

Bunions, who has those?

Dear Shiddy: As I glibly shuffled off to buffalo over and over this evening in Studio III, I wondered if I would ever get bunions. I hope not.