Last summer, my buddy Jake invited our families to a water park. The first hot weekend of the year.
I knew I'd have to take off my shirt. If I left it on, my friends would hassle me. "What, are you 12? Take the damn shirt off."
So I did.
Big mistake.
Jake’s youngest – about 18 months – waddled over as I sat at the edge of the lazy river. He grabbed onto my chest for support.
Then the kid started rooting around my chest like he was looking for his mom.
Jake saw it. "He's trying to suck your t*ts, haha."
Everyone around us started laughing. His wife. Other families. Even my wife cracked a smile.
I forced a laugh. "Yeah, real funny."
But all I could think about was that burly lifeguard watching everything.
And the dad two chairs down with his kids – six-pack, broad shoulders, looked like he was ripped from a magazine.
And my buddy Jake himself, who somehow stayed lean after two kids while I ballooned into a "Before" picture.
I grabbed my towel and took off for the bathroom.