Matt and Cindy Crawford: Which is which?

Is that Matt or Cindy?

We are just that much alike. Well, except for her mole, her fame and money, her working neurological system, cultural and moral beliefs, and, of course, her lady bits. Other than that ...

Basically, we both don't mind taking our clothes off. Or in my case, having my clothes fall off.

I reached this conclusion at the wheelchair place yesterday as they were fixing up my manual chair (more on that later).

I transferred several times between chair and couch so the technicians could see what needed doing and then do it. On the last transfer to the manual chair, I felt my pants sliding. The guy who were helping me transfer said: Let me straighten you up here. But he straightened my pants that had gotten turned around.

I had to get back in the power chair for the ride home, which I knew was trouble. Sure enough, my jeans, which had a belt holding them up, slid halfway down my hips. The wheelchair guy said something like: Oh, you're losing your pants.

Was I supposed to be embarrassed? So you could see my boxers, big deal! They were black shorts with gold designs, for those who missed it.

I just laughed and said to the wheelchair guy, yeah, it's been a long day; I'm going home. Then I did leave.

At the doctor last week, I noticed my lack of embarrassment. The nurse got out a surgical gown and I thought she was going to help me undress. Then she said: Just take your shirt off and you can put this on.

I was like: For a shirt? Cindy and I don't mind being topless.

The wheelchair is much better. I used to feel like I had no back support so they put on a really comfy back. Now I feel like I am being spooned by my chair. (Not that I have ever been involved in a spoon situation, but I am extrapolating from my days clearing the dishwasher and putting away utensils.)