Letting Yourself Go

I was looking at my wife: no teeth in, tits on her belly, hair a mess and smoking a roll up. Then she cocked her leg and let out a massive fart.

“You are a mess and I’m disgusted with you,” I said. “I’m still the woman you love and married,” she said. “Sometimes we all let ourselves go a bit.”

“We’re on our fucking honeymoon,” I replied!


My wife has got to an age where she’s not bothered about the size of her tits any more.

It’s the length she’s bothered about now.