Baby Got Back

Do you ever have a day where you get up and try on all your pants and decide that ass gnomes must have snuck into your bedroom during the night and subcutaneously inserted one of those derriere enhancers, but you really don't need your derriere enhanced? Because I'm having one of those days today. My pants are still the right length and they still button, but it's like my bum doubled in size because the pants are holding on tight to my booty like pantyhose over a bank robber's head. Not a good look, mind you.

I've had people tell my ass is big. (It's alright, I'm in therapy now.) This guy Johnny, who was in my computer class in 11th grade, told me that I had a black ass. (But I think he meant it as a compliment. I guess he liked big butts and he couldn't lie.) And recently, I had someone (without an ass, needless to say) lean back and say, "The bartender just told me I don't have an ass! You've got an ass!". NO SHIT.

On a day like today, it's best to put on old jeans, grab a cute purse and go shopping for shoes or make-up. Retail therapy. And a listening to a little Sir Mix-a-lot can't hurt. Oh my God, Becky.