LOW END THEORY

This is my booty.

...And my big hair. But that's a different post.

ignore my face. it's been a long day

It doesn't stop traffic. (not that i've noticed anyway) It won't win me a video hoe vixen of the year award. (do they have those?) You can't sit a drink on it*. (because i won't let you. besides, that's what the table is for, or the bar, you impertinent muthafracker) It won't land me the cover of king, smooth or one of those other men's mags. It definitely won't gain me entrance into one of bill maher's secret sex parties**. (cuz you know he has a thing for the "sistas".)

In other words, i don't have a (badonka)donk.

Sidenote: I was in the car with my mom the other day and we were discussing booties and the black man (yes our discussions run the gamut lol) and i said something about a badonkadonk. As we sat waiting for the light to change she asked me to explain what i meant. Would you believe she had no idea what that was? I mean she inferred it from context eventually but she had never heard the expression before. I have failed as a daughter! LOL. Of course now that she knows it she keeps finding ways to insert it into conversation - even if the conversation is nowhere near the topic of badonkadonks. I think she just likes the feel of the word coming out of her mouth. Yes, i can't listen to sexy songs around my mother, but im totally comfortable discussing things like boobs and butts. I'm an enigma wrapped in a puzzle, sandwiched in a riddle.

But where was I? My (lack of) donk.

No, it doesn't require it's own area code, but it still holds up its end of the bargain. (get it? holds up? end? :-/) It's soft. It's firm. Ok... it does jiggle a bit, but not disgustingly so. I mean, at least i don't think. It facilitates my walking and dancing (salsa bebe!) It responds to stimulus well(pilates and yoga has given it extra lift.) It looks decent in the right pair of jeans. It looks even better out of them (oop!) And most important, it does its job as a cushion for my body weight, as my day job as a cubicle warrior is an unforgiving one.

So why am i on blogspot talking about my booty?

I chalk it up to whimsy, adrenaline, and merlot. (and the loss of a bet.)

Actually its quite humorous, -- i would say ironic, but im nervous to use that word given the fact that its usually used incorrectly. (Rashad help me out?) -- as i've always been a tad bit uncomfortable with my physical manifestation. ( yes, i could have said body, by why use one word when you can use two? lol) I had the misfortune of developing hips (but little else) when i was twelve. I remember shopping with my aunt for my 8th grade graduation dress - and as we went through the agonizing process of trying clothes on, she remarked "girl... you got some big hips!" I was crushed. At that age what did hips mean for me? I wanted a bosom. Not an outsized pelvis. Of course, she didn't mean it in a bad way, but it made my already gawky self even more gawky. (and thus began my hatred of trying things on.) All through high school i dressed in baggy clothes. Fortunately it wasn't that big of a deal - during the time i was in HS, it was cool for a girl to dress like Boss. I could hide behind outsized clothing and still be fashionable.

But when i had to wear something a bit more form fitting? Hated it. :-( When i was about 16 i attended a wedding with my parents, and some of my friends were there. My mom bought me this very nice dress, a kind of jersey knit. Well my male friends must have been taken aback at what was hiding underneath my normal uniform of plaid shirts and levis - because i got so many compliments from them. I hated it. My mom said it was because i looked really nice. Because im a weirdo, i freaked out at the attention,and resolved to never wear the dress again. And I didn't.

It was a strange dichotomy, because despite my uncomfortableness with my own body, i still compared it with others. Or maybe that isn't strange. At any rate I always came up short.

But im making the effort to break that habit. Barring plastic surgery - there is nothing i can do about my build. My backside will never be used as an ode to ernie barnes. And that's ok. What's important is that it's mine and that i embrace it solely for that fact. What was once a sore spot is now something im content with.


I'm learning to love my body.


So tell me, what's your favorite part? (of yours!)

* rule applies only to unknown men (not my man - i do have a sense of humor)

**(made up - i have no idea if bill maher has sex parties. lol)

D'angelo - Spanish Joint