Dad's sweet corn was often bid on by big companies that would bring their own people in to pick it for canning. That was a good deal, because dad didn...t have to use any of his workers to harvest that crop, just to plant and cultivate it. We did have to put up with one of the canning company people, who for a couple of weeks spent all day in the corn fields, tearing ears of corn open to make sure the corn was picked at the exact right time.Dad's unusual hobby was airplanes. Most people would. My perky breasts drooped, staring sadly at the ground. My nipples, which had been small and peony pink, became large and a depressing taupe. My tight, difficult to enter, vagina was loose, fistable even. My labia turned a brown the color of ruined meat, where they had once been a lovely rose pink. Where there had been a flower, a paradise, there was some sort of goblin. By giving my husband the most precious of gifts, I also guaranteed the end of his passion. Second, I became tired. I could no. More

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