Baby Got Back

There might actually be hope for me. I might actually be able to dance to Sir Mix A Lot's "Baby Got Back," without feeling like a total sham. For you see I have been gaining weight. Before you women readers who know me collectively feel or follow the urge to post a comment along the lines of "Gail, OMG, shut the bloody heck up before I punch you in the face, because you still freakin' look like a desirable anorexic by media standards," I ask you to hear me out and let me revel for a moment in my glory...

Growing up I have always had an obsession for anything scientific or medical. This love lead to me watching A LOT of shows on plastic surgery on daytime t.v.. For the most part I couldn't relate to the patients themselves. For example, I will never know the joys of having a breast reduction after years of pain or had yet feel the need for liposuction. But one day, revelation happened. A small Chinese girl on one of the shows came in to get- butt implants! I felt such pleasure as I watched the doctor prepping her for surgery as he rainbow sharpied her pitifully small, flat top hiney...which was just like my own sad excuse for a posterior. I knew I had to have a silicon butt for myself someday.

Then... I saw the price tag. Yikes! I don't remember what it was exactly how much it was, but I do remember me slowly expelling the previous breath with weight of crushed dreams. It seems I would perpetually be a victim of butt rumples in jeans and booty shorts would always be a mere fancy for my fabulous friends.

But ladies, my moment of glory has come. I wore booty shorts yesterday and they looked good. You know, the kind you wear to look sexy-sexy for your husband when he comes home and you pray to your God that your neighbors won't see you somehow through the deceivingly closed blinds ; although, if you live in a neighborhood like mine, you would be merely fitting in wearing shorts up your crack. Moreover, the last couple of days I have noticed my jeans are a lot more flush and rounded. Hallelujah!

The cause, yes, before that desire rises again in your throat to write nasty comment, is weight gain. I swear this isn't the first weight gain cycle (yes, I know you don't believe me), but this is the first one, maybe due to getting older, I have a nice bun and breast set to feel normal in. It so satisfying to look down either side of my body and not see Kansas. Even the husband commented how cute I look, and how I look better now than when we were first married and sporting a 5'8"-5'9", 105 lbs. body. If you know my husband, compliments are almost non-existent so you know it is serious and the desirable trait MUST BE HELD ON TO. It seems being a worthless excuse for a human being-couch potato with no job so far and no classes this semester has paid off.

The problem? What will happen to my new set of jewels when I start being a productive member of society again? What will happen when I finally internalize I haven't exercised since December and I really should do that again? I'll tell you what will happen. POOF! Gone. Disappointment. Body image confusion. Sad husband. My curse and gift from God, the ability to lose weight for doing things like finger dancing to much, will take me.

But until reality sets in that I can't be immobile and slothful the rest of my days, I will enjoy dancing to Sir Mix A Lot's one hit wonder and shaking my gluteous maximus with not as much guilt. No more than for a few minutes though or back to mosquito bites or mono-butt is sure to follow.