Me and my big botty
It’s no good! I can’t (A-line) skirt around the issue any longer… I have a big botty; a big, round, white, soft, squishy one.
And I know that I should embrace it because we’re ‘in the moment’ of the bountiful booty (think Kim Kardashian, think Iggy Azalea, think Beyonce) but I can’t – partly because I don’t want to and partly because it’s behind me… so I can’t reach.
So I’ve been sat here sitting on my plump, pillowy posterior wondering… what exactly should I do about it?
Should I ignore it perhaps – pretend it’s not there?
Or should I find ways of making my mahoosive ‘mother of a mountain range’ a might less visible?
I know what I’ll do… I’ll write down some of the tricks that I’ve employed in the past, and then I’ll see if I can come up with any ways to improve upon them in the future. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Okay, so here goes:
In the past:
1) I’ve worn dark colours on my lower half.
(I think that this could only be improved upon if I were able to get hold of some of that paint that NASA uses on its stealth bombers, you know, to make them invisible..?)
2) I’ve worn long length cardys/jumpers.
(Which has been fine in the winter months but utterly unbearable in summer, so there is some room for improvement with this one, I feel.)
3) I’ve refused to wear leggings.
(And I’m sorry but I will continue to give them a wide berth until someone can come up with a stretch fabric that doesn’t give me a wide berth.)
3) I’ve tried going last in queues so that no-one gets to see the back of me (which has made shopping trips a complete nightmare as you can imagine and is virtually impossible in this age of 24 hour opening that we live in).
(I could ‘get with the times,’ I suppose… shop online and have my food delivered?)
4) I have actively sought out walls to back up against so that (as above) no-one gets to see the back of me.
(This one has only ever worked in mazes so I don’t know why I put that one.)
5) I’ve avoided any ‘high-viz’ activities such as bowling, jogging, swimming (other than back-stroke, of course), cycling, dancing, running and walking. Come to think of it, I’ve avoided any activity ending in the word ‘ing’… including living.
Oh, my goodness. I’ve just re-read that last bit and… how sad.
I can see now that I’ve let my bottom dictate my whole life. How limiting is that? I simply must learn to embrace it before it’s too late. I must, I must, and I will… right after I’ve given NASA a quick ring to see if they’ve got any of that paint going spare.