My Aunt's Butt

When I was a kid, my aunt used to go around her house naked. I still remember the nausea I felt every time I visited my cousins. I remember a tan line above a butt, and I remember feeling uncomfortable.

She was a recent widow, still a young woman in what top scientists (including NASA engineers) say is the peak of a woman’s sexuality. There were many “uncles.” The only light she had in her room was a red bedside lamp. Not much subtlety there.

I wonder if there’s a hidden trauma somewhere in that whole story. Wouldn’t that be great? To be able to discover a trauma after twenty-five years and be able to blame my aunt for my failures? She doesn’t necessarily have to take the blame for all of it; some of my failures I could still pin on my dad, but maybe some sexual dysfunctions could be attributed to her? That skinny white butt must be responsible for something.