A young Italian woman gets married. She has never made love to a man before, and on their wedding night, when her husband takes off his shirt, the woman runs out of the room.
Her mother, who lives downstairs, is making pasta sauce.
“Mama, Mama,” the woman cries. “My husband has hair all over his chest! What should I do?”
“Hair on his chest?” The mother laughs. “He’s your husband. It’s your wedding night. Go upstairs.
When the woman returns to her room, her husband takes off his pants. She runs back to her mother.
“Mama, Mama! He has hair all over his legs! What should I do?”
The mother just stirs the sauce. “Hair on his legs? He’s your husband. It’s your wedding night. Go upstairs.”
The woman goes back upstairs, where her husband takes off his shoes and socks. She looks down and sees that one half of his right foot is missing. She races down the stairs again.
“Mama, Mama! He’s got a foot and a half! What should I do?”
“A foot and a half?” The mother hands her daughter the spoon. “You stir the sauce. I’ll go upstairs.”