Circumcision

When I was a little girl, in the early sixties, my mom used to sit me in a corner with a pair of scissors and a stack of magazines. I remember this image because I thought it was so beautiful, with all the deep greeny blues. I especially admired the confidence on the woman's face and how she was looking off into the horizon as if she had a head full of well-defined plans and five years in which to accomplish them. I thought the only flaw in the photograph was the man simpering at her breast. So I took my scissors and snipped him out. Voila! Problem solved!

I love men, but I was right. This guy doesn't belong in this picture.