My wife, 5'10" tall in her bare feet, with perhaps the longest legs on the planet, often used that expression when confronted by one or more young women whose shape was not suited for such a revealing garment.
I, on the other hand, thanked the Lord when my gaze fell on young women - scratch that - any women, younger or older, who wore them and whose shapes were most definitely suited for them.
It was another chilly winter afternoon, and we had just popped into the grocery store to pick up a few provisions for our evening meal. As we started for the produce section, I looked up to see a pair of young women entering the store. The younger one was just another pretty girl, but it was her companion that caught my eye. Slim, tall, perhaps 5'8" or 5'9", with short blonde hair framing a pretty face, she was wearing a pair of pale grey, ankle-length leggings, tight enough to show every curve, every muscle of her long, exquisite legs.
As they walked to the opposite end of the store, I slowed long enough to surreptitiously take in the view from the rear. And that's when I saw perfection. Suddenly, every other bottom I had ever seen, in real life, a magazine, on the internet, the television, or indeed anywhere, paled in comparison to this one.
It... was... perfect!
We've all heard the expression, "My heart skipped a beat". Mine did.
We've all heard the expression, "He/she moaned softly". I did.
We've all heard the expression, "He felt his penis harden immediately". Mine didn't.
C'mon people, I'm no longer a healthy, virile young man with an overloaded libido! That ship sailed a while ago. Besides, this is not a tale to appeal to our disgusting prurient desires but rather an expression of reverence for perfection. Not since Alexandros sculpted the masterpiece of Aphrodite has the world seen such beauty.
Every square inch, no, every square millimetre of that material clung to the warm skin hidden underneath. The only crease in the material was the vertical one between her cheeks, which split into two and curved around where her thighs met the rise of her buttocks.
"What do we need, Jerry?" I was brought back to the mundane realities of life with a dull thud by my wife's question. How could I possibly be expected to debate the merits of yams versus sweet potatoes when my thoughts were filled with visions of perfection?
"Yams, broccoli, and onions," I said automatically, "and a video camera," I muttered under my breath, as I desperately tried to hold on to the mental images of that incredible bottom.
"Oh, don't forget we need a packet of Bisto as well, sweetie."
"Bisto browns, Bisto seasons, Bisto thickens, all in one go, so......