I’ve been called a lot of things in my day, Pumpkins, but never a PANK. Although it sounds like something that comes in black or beige, crotchless or not, and impossible to remove without a forklift --being a PANK apparently makes me highly prized in the world of travel.
The term is the latest in the imaginative world of travel acronyms and refers to a professional aunt with no kids. According to ASTA, “Childless single women are a potentially lucrative niche market.” We barren ones are the new gays, dahrlings -- a largely untapped group with high-spending habits. I’d like to go along with the notion, but to say I’m untapped is a bit of a stretch (which is where highly elasticized, lycra reinforced, undergarments play an invaluable role -- even if wrenching the suckers into position leads to the occasional hernia).
Of course, even dual belted spanks aren't much use to my sister who, after embarking on a birthing marathon unknown to modern man since the Bishops took over Trois Riviere, is stretched beyond recognition. Now, thanks to ASTA, she insists I fulfull my PANKy responsibilities and take her brood with me on on fabulous holidays. Does it have to be all at once? My loins are girded, Pumpkins.
