“Your stomach looks like dough,” my brother told me. He was probably about six, which places me at about nine. We were out on the boat with family, like we often were in the summer. “My stomach,” he said, “is flat and tan, but yours is soft and white like dough.” And he laughed, meanly. I don’t hold this against my little brother. He was young, and he was parroting the kind … [Read more...]