I have 15 minutes to write this post…
These days, I have to buy jeans to fit my butt before they fit my waist. The fact that I am elated at this is really strange and just…strange. But you’ve got to understand that my loving and varied male friends have consistently bestowed pet names upon me that reflected a very small size to a much treasured “appendage”: names like “mosquito bites,” which was accompanied by a profound declaration that my breasts were not all that looked like a tiny bump left behind by a blood-thirsty insect. I also had the pleasure of being the “guy’s girl” who was allowed to hang and sit-in on (and observe) conversations about and instantaneous responses to booties. My favorite is the raised eyebrows moving into a frown accompanied by a slight lean-back and then “SHEEEESH.” I have literally witnessed discreet scientific analysis of Jet’s beauty (booty YOU KNOW IT WAS THE MAIN CRITERIA!!!) of the week. It wasn’t that I was interested in the guys or even that I wanted to be gawked at, it was just that I felt something was missing. BOOTY.
I grew up with the curvy, gorgeous mother who had all of the boys drooling. From playground to college graduation, to annual trips to homecoming, the fellas would line up and look and sing my mothers name “Hey, Ms. Such and Such.” While myself and my brothers cut many eyes at boys, I would always sigh afterward. I did not get those genes. HOW DID I NOT GET THOSE GENES!?!?!?!?! Life can be so confusing for a woman. Maybe, that’s why I wanted one so bad. I felt entitled. I wanted to hear guys say “Girl, I want to thank yo Momma for that ass.”
I had a baby. The butt and boobs left with the belly. Not complaining at all, because I was blessed that my post baby belly peaced-out quickly and without a fight. The boobs became a pain to deal with so I was happy when they went. BUT MY BUTT…sigh…
So what happened that I have to size my jeans for my butt then work my way in? I ain’t got a clue. And it really happened. Nothing else budged. Waist. Same (actually got a little smaller). Breasts. Still small. Legs. Always liked my legs so they were never a problem.
I did just enter a new decade of life. Does 30 bring you the body you always wanted? I don’t know. I just know that by 28/29, I had grown to love what I had. I always wanted a booty, but I just let the idea of having one go. I was thankful to be in the shape I was in. Who needs a booty? As as soon as I stopped thinking about it…booty.
Booty. I still don’t have a lot, but I’ve got one.