Bough: (n) main branch of a tree.
It never even occurred to me to lose weight.
There was sufficient ridicule to warrant such a maneuver, but I was always told that the ones who critiqued my girth were just “jealous about how strong I was.”
There are disadvantages in being a rotund ten-year-old. One of those was the fact that climbing a tree was a Herculean feat. There was certainly a lot of butt to get up the bark.
And then, to my disappointment, while ascending an elm tree I discovered that sitting on the first bough caused it to crack, break and I tumbled to earth. It is embarrassing to be snubbed by a member of the forest.
So I was delighted when I came upon a large oak tree with low-hanging boughs, making it easy for me to ascend–thick and strong enough to hold the weight of my backside.
I was so enthralled with the accomplishment that I invited all my friends to come and climb this oak tree with me. Unfortunately, when my other friends climbed up and sat on the first bough and I ascended to join them, my weight mingled with theirs, broke it–and I was therefore blamed for the “snappage.”
I do love boughs.
But I also understand that “when the bough breaks” … the big boy will fall.
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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant