1. This afternoon, Ben bounced his head off my abdomen. "It's bouncier!" he said. Yes, that's right—the muscles beneath the flab have more spring to them than the previous flab beneath the flab offered. Folks, you can't argue with results like that.
2. The Big Gay Weekend wrapped up in fine style at Northalsted Market Days, the annual street fair. We walked down the center of the street, surrounded by booths selling beer and frozen bellinis, funnel cakes and lemonade, BBQ and Asian food, or dispensing information about the gay Mormon community or LGBT health centers, or selling merchandise (we bought a miniature Gay Games basketball and a tie-dye tee for Ben), or running promotional contests. And it occurred to me, seeing the carnival food, that Ben's been to more city street fairs than plain ol' summer carnivals. (Works for me!) Some folks were sporting nipple-ring stickers—a sticker that looked like a hairy nipple with a ring in it. (It just doesn't look quite right on a woman, the hairy chest.) Got a couple free pens and, courtesy of the local bathhouse, a packet with a condom and lube. Ben, of course, remains utterly oblivious to the nonstandardness of attire like mesh undies worn out of doors, or military drag (fishnet stockings, a camouflage miniskirt, etc.). On the way home, I stopped at the bookstore and bought Out magazine's August issue, which features what is possibly the gayest crossword ever (really, how much competition does Wordplay's Trip Payne have in the category of gay-themed crosswords?). I bet the puzzle's orders of magnitude easier than his NYT crossword today.
3. Before the bookstore, I stopped at the Gap and tried on some bras in the size that the tape measure says I have shriveled to. That tape measure is bullshit! My cups runneth over in the four sizes I tried, so perhaps I've merely dropped a single cup size. (I feel better.)