My Butt's Sagging!
If you have an aversion to honesty, please don't read this post.
As advertised, I have no boobs. And although depressing, it's been all right because there are two types of women in this world. Girls either have great butts or great boobs. AND if they have both (without surgery) they're freaks of nature and I can't associate with them.

She feels my pain.
But seriously, I've been proud of my behind. Once a guy said we couldn't date because I had no boobs; I took pride in the fact that as I walked away, he looked at my good side--and I hope he regretted being a jerk!
Yesterday, I donned a pair of fancy, albeit second-hand, jeans, and after glancing in the mirror, I gasped. My butt is starting to sag! Sure I'll be thirty in February, but does this really need to happen now? Can't I have my butt for a few more months?

In total sadness, I yelled to Cade for reassurance. "Is it honestly sagging?"
"Well, no. But it does look different since we got married."
"Of course it does! I was seventeen and now I'm almost thirty."
"Not because of that," he said, and I thought he might save himself before saying, "it's because your hips spread after having five kids."
"Five of YOUR kids."
"Yeah," he laughed and I LEFT THE ROOM. I've given him everything and in return he took my butt away!
Then I called my mom. For any of you who've read The Golden Sky , you know my mom loves water, but I hate it. Anyway I called and she said, "I told you, you should be drinking more water."
"Oh, you. You'll say anything to get me drinking water."
"You've still been walking up the stairs a lot, right?" she asked and after saying 'yes' I hung up shortly after.
So, it's time to have a funeral for my 'good part.' Maybe I should wear butt pads like Angelina Jolie--I can stuff my bra as well--then the world will have no idea the joke's on them! Guys will check out my stuffing and I'll giggle--since it's only toilet paper.
Or is it simply time to use wrinkle cream--and exercise?

I tried some butt exercises yesterday where you're supposed to walk on your tip-toes, squat, and flex your cheeks separately with each step. I looked out my front window and a neighbor guy--who wears sweats in the summertime--stared like I'm the idiot. Doesn't he know my butt is sagging--and although it's not a big deal to anyone else it's a sign that I'm aging, mortal, dramatic, and I could die at anytime.
For the sake of humanity--please let these butt flexes save my good part.
In the name of Jesus,
Amen.
As advertised, I have no boobs. And although depressing, it's been all right because there are two types of women in this world. Girls either have great butts or great boobs. AND if they have both (without surgery) they're freaks of nature and I can't associate with them.

She feels my pain.
But seriously, I've been proud of my behind. Once a guy said we couldn't date because I had no boobs; I took pride in the fact that as I walked away, he looked at my good side--and I hope he regretted being a jerk!
Yesterday, I donned a pair of fancy, albeit second-hand, jeans, and after glancing in the mirror, I gasped. My butt is starting to sag! Sure I'll be thirty in February, but does this really need to happen now? Can't I have my butt for a few more months?

In total sadness, I yelled to Cade for reassurance. "Is it honestly sagging?"
"Well, no. But it does look different since we got married."
"Of course it does! I was seventeen and now I'm almost thirty."
"Not because of that," he said, and I thought he might save himself before saying, "it's because your hips spread after having five kids."
"Five of YOUR kids."
"Yeah," he laughed and I LEFT THE ROOM. I've given him everything and in return he took my butt away!
Then I called my mom. For any of you who've read The Golden Sky , you know my mom loves water, but I hate it. Anyway I called and she said, "I told you, you should be drinking more water."
"Oh, you. You'll say anything to get me drinking water."
"You've still been walking up the stairs a lot, right?" she asked and after saying 'yes' I hung up shortly after.
So, it's time to have a funeral for my 'good part.' Maybe I should wear butt pads like Angelina Jolie--I can stuff my bra as well--then the world will have no idea the joke's on them! Guys will check out my stuffing and I'll giggle--since it's only toilet paper.
Or is it simply time to use wrinkle cream--and exercise?

I tried some butt exercises yesterday where you're supposed to walk on your tip-toes, squat, and flex your cheeks separately with each step. I looked out my front window and a neighbor guy--who wears sweats in the summertime--stared like I'm the idiot. Doesn't he know my butt is sagging--and although it's not a big deal to anyone else it's a sign that I'm aging, mortal, dramatic, and I could die at anytime.
For the sake of humanity--please let these butt flexes save my good part.
In the name of Jesus,
Amen.

Published on September 19, 2012 01:30
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