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It was nearly impossible to predict what Aunt Thelma would do at our family reunions. One year she made a red velvet cake shaped like a tampon. Another time she purposely ingested some kind of medicine that made her fart furiously for hours. That was the year we held it on a small enclosed porch (never again).
This past year Thelma delighted in ambushing distant relatives who were not completely aware of the extent of her mania, and asking for photos with them. In all these pictures, she found some way to introduce either one or both of her remarkably sagging breasts.