Figure

When I'm out and see a woman with a baby propped on her hip, I feel a twinge of envy. If a man's shoulder was built for the butt of a rifle, then a woman's hip was built for the butt of a baby.

If I bend sideways at the waist as though I've just hip-checked someone, I can form a barely passable place for Lyla to sit. It's very difficult to walk this way, though, and it looks asinine. The old V-8 commercials come to mind, with all those crooked people who haven't had their V-8 this morning.

Maybe I could modify one of my belts into a hip extender, tie on a small sitting plank, perhaps. With an artificial waist, I could easily hold Lyla on one side, letting her face outward and experience the world, all while leaving my other hand free to do other things, such as bowl. But that would look asinine too.

Oh well. Despite the occasional inconveniences, I am thankful my figure resembles a grandfather clock instead of an hourglass.