I can't even bring myself to intone "if we stop flying, the terrorists have already won." Between the TSA's inability to detect body cavity bombs and my personal aversion to a pre-flight crochtal groping, I'm not going anywhere unless I can drive there.
But just in case I have to fly for work, my New Years Resolution is to get into swimsuit shape, henceforth known as TSA Pat-Down Shape. Wise clothing choices can disguise pot bellies and love handles, but the TSA sees all and feels all. How embarrassing would it be to have the TSA agent mistake adiposal evidence of indulgence around my midsection for an explosive belt?
As I approach security, I'm going to strip down to a bikini (OK, at my age maybe a one-piece) and dare them to select me for a pat-down. If I can stay off the Cookies & Cream, it might make for compelling viewing.
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