Apparently there are certain things you're not supposed to discuss as a women. As a blogger. As a human in western civilization. Apparently, you're only allowed to discuss these certain things in the abstract, but if you get too specific, it's offensive. ooooh, offensive.
Apparently, I'm not supposed to talk about fat. Particularly the size of my ass. I'm not allowed to say I have a fat ass, even if I mean it in the most loving way (more on that later). And because this subject is so taboo, I assume that if I were saying how fabulously tiny my ass is, how skinny, how I'm proud of the lack of definition (which would never happen, unless I had ass removal surgery), I'd also offend. Because we're not allowed to discuss our asses at all. But this isn't about skinny asses.
It's about fat.
We're supposed to want to lose weight, but also to be happy with our fat. We're supposed to be constantly exercising, but we're not supposed to talk about it. And we're supposed to eat, but not too much. Not actually enjoy it.
Well, I'd like to set the record straight. I love my ass. I do. So much so that I think I should name her. What should it be? How about...Buttina? It's cheesy, I realize, but it's smacks of ardor. I love Buttina so much that I want to talk about her. Okay? I'm going to talk about my ass. And her fat. You see, Buttina is like a little sister. No one is allowed to make fun of her butt me. But because she's my ass (and not yours), I get to make fun of her all I want. I earned that. And the jesting is in love. It is. I love Buttina. Buttina is kind of fat and I love her.
Now, for the first 20 years or so of my life, I didn't love Buttina. She was flat. And skinny. And didn't hold my pants up. And this was the eighties and nineties. Cindy Crawford was the epitome of beauty, so flat asses were not desirable, yo. Not at all. I didn't like being that skinny and I certainly didn't like that Buttina made me feel more like a ten year old boy than the woman I desperately wanted to be.
Over the last 10 years, Buttina has come her own, ass it were. And most days, I love that. She got pretty small when I lived in Europe (all those damn French stairs), but with burritos and beer, I got her back in shape in no time.
And do you see? I get to say things like that. Because it's my ass and I'm okay with that. Because most days, I like that I have a bigger ass. I like my fat. And I like to enjoy food. And eat too much on vacation. That's okay. I'd rather enjoy life than worry every second about my jeans size. Which, to be fair, I sometimes do.
There are days when Aunt Flo is about to call and I don't fit into any of my jeans and all I want is a huge burger and an injection of chocolate. Those days I don't feel so attractive. But I know how to cope with that. I put on sweats, watch Grey's Anatomy, eat a huge burger, and inject chocolate. Duh.
I also don't love it when I gain weight in my waistline. Couldn't all the fat go to my ass and boobs (more to my boobs, please? PLEASE?) and leave my waist alone? Nope? Dammit. And I guess I don't want to die of a heart attack so I try to eat right most of the time and get in exercise regularly. But it's less about looking like a starving preteen (which I looked like as a preteen and teen despite the ungodly amounts of food I ingested) and more about finding balance.
Balance. That is one of my favorite words. Why can't I both love food and want to be healthy? Why can't I think my ass is kind of fat and still feel attractive? Why can't I say fat ass without offending? Fat is only a bad word if we let it offend. Instead, I think my fast ass is kind of endearing. And I'll say it over and over until it loses it's power. Fat ass. Fatass. Fat. Ass. FATASS!
And okay, maybe my ass is smaller than many women's asses out there. That doesn't mean I think all those asses are huge. I'm just talking about my own ass here. You all have to estimate your own asses and decide how you feel. Whether it's a little fat or a lot of fat, it's still your fat and up to you to give it a cheesy name all on your own.
I am happy with my fat ass. Some days she pisses me off (Buttina can be a real smartass), but most days we get along just fine. But if I want to make fun of Buttina, I get to. And it doesn't mean that I have low self esteem. On the contrary. I think we should all celebrate our fat asses. Or skinny asses (if that's what you're sportin'). Or flat asses. Or round asses. And how I celebrate is with a caustic sense of humor, a po'boy, chocolate mousse, and a nice pair of stretchy jeans. You know the kind.
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