Big Butt Blog

I love when things just fall into place sometimes. Not wrong place wrong time but instead right place right time. For me today the right place right time was reading an essay by Erin J Aubry, called "The Butt: it's politics, it's profanity, it's power" (part of the "Body Outlaws" anthology.

As I write this I'm sitting on a small plane headed from Portland to San Francisco (eventually making my way to San Diego). When I say small plane I mean put your carry on luggage below because the overheads are the size of a bread box, four seats across small.

The airline doesn't matter.

What does matter is today, this flight, was the first time I EVER in my nearly 10 years of flying as an adult, had to ask for a seat belt extension.

I was mortified.

Despite being size 26, and having good ol' fashioned birthing hips and a big butt I've always been able to wear a standard airline seat belt. 

Yes they've always fit snug over my hips but it's supposed to. Sometimes I've had to sit up straight, slip the belt under my belly to

have it sit across my lap.

But never have I had it not fit.

Not click into itself.

Thankfully I was one of the first on the plane and there were not that many people in the back of the plane when I slipped beside the flight attendant and had to ask for a "belt extension". The flight attendant smiled and politely asked what seat I was in as she handed me the balled up belt.

Did it have to be a different color?

Did she have to ask what seat I was in so everyone around knew the woman in 11D didn't fit in her seat?

Now to be fair to myself I fit in the seat. My hips and thighs don't spill over into my neighbors seat. It's just the combination of my hips, butt and stomach just were two or three inches too big to fit into the airlines expectation of "maximum size".

No matter how you look at it. No matter what spin you put to it. It was still the first time I had the thought "I'm too fat to fly".

Enter Erin Aubry's "The Butt".

Now while I cannot claim to know first hand the social stigmas and perceptions the country/world puts onto woman of color and their butts. A number of things that Aubry discusses in her essay spoke to me and I could relate my own personal experiences of being a big butt

woman.

"I have a big butt. Not wide hips, not a preening, weightlifting-enhanced butt thrust up like a chin, not an occasionally saucy rear that throws coqettish glances at strangers when it's in the mood and withdraw like a turtle when it's not. Every day, my butt wears me...."

I often feel this way. That no matter what I wear, how I try to camaflage it, there is no hiding that I have a BUTT! Although (perhaps) unlike Erin Aubry I also have wide hips. And there are days when I'm convinced my butt and hips are teaming up and flirting with strangers when I'm not looking. Winking and giving come hither looks to every man on the street.

I have no control over it and it gets me in trouble. My butt/hips are out there socializing away and then when the men come up to me and use such original come-ons like "Hey there Momma" and "Mmm. Damn girl"- I have to be the bitch that turns them down... It also doesn't help that

I think my breasts are in on the scam with my hips and butt.

There are days when I just cannot stand my butt/hip duo and want to vote them off the island.

Days when it doesn't matter how many pairs of pants I try on I just can't find a pair that fits. Either they fit around my waist but have too much fabric in the seat so it looks lime I've got a load back there. Or they fit fantastic over my butt, with curves in all the right places but I can't make the button up. Because I'm telling you now I don't do elastic waist bands unless we're talking pjs or lounge pants.

Days like today when something as insignificant as an airplane seat belt makes me hyperaware that I have a "larger than average" sized body and society isn't sure what to do with it.

"I'll admit: For all my hand wringing, I'm growing accustomed to my butt. It's a strange and wonderful development....as I've gotten heavier I've actually gotten more comfortable with how I look....So what if America, in it's infinite generosity, wants to hp me get rid of this bothersome behind....More and more, my response has been: I am going to eat cake. I will wear the things that fit-whatever ones I can find-with impunity. I will walk this way. I don't have an issue, I have a groove thing. Kiss my you know what."

This last piece of Aubry's essay is really what sang out to me. I am currently near the heaviest weight I have ever been (actually the heaviest was approximately three years ago but only by about fifteen or twenty pounds more) but I believe I'm also the most comfortable with my body...until days like today.

(End Note. I returned via this same airline on my way home from San Diego. This time on a standard 747 and my seat belt fit just fine)

Coming Out Fat.

A friend recently posted a link to this article called "Guys Who Like Fat Chicks" (from the Village Voice) on her facebook page. I was a little hesitant about reading it but I trust her judgement and most times agree or like the other articles she posts. 

Here's a link to the article.

Okay. So I'm not sure why articles always feel like they have to parallel their cause with coming out as gay....but this article doesn't linger on it for long. It is nice to see an article that addresses the "FA" and not just BBW's with pride. A little on the long side (and pretty heavy on a single interviewee) but a good read nonetheless. 

I'm always excited/interested to read articles addressing the topic of plus size (the term I prefer to identify with) people (not just women) having normal relationships. That we (and the people who find us attractive) are not freaks of nature, we're not abnormal or something to be hidden and only talked about behind closed doors.  

*     *      *

I come from a family of curvy women - not all of them are plus size, but there are few without hips, butts, breasts and other curves. 

I was destined to be a curvy lady. 

At my smallest (obviously post-puberty) I was a 14 and at my largest (a few years ago) was a size 28 (at around 280lbs). Today I'm around 260 and a size 26. 

I'm not ashamed. I'm not trying to hide my body behind muumuus and oversized sweats. 

It's true I say I "carry my weight well" because I think I do. I dress stylish and appropriate and have had people assume my weight/size was smaller than what it was in actuality. 

It's also true that I'm currently in the middle of a "28 Day Challenge" in which I'm trying to have more exercise in my daily life. I'm not doing that because I'm ashamed of how I look. I'm doing it so I can feel healthier, so I can battle the Seasonal Depression that knocks you over when living in such a grey part of the country.

*     *     *

I've had boyfriends, when I was, from one extreme of weight to another. None (that I know) of them came out as "Fat Admirers" but obviously they liked a little extra something since they were dating me. Most of them were "breast-men" and as you can see I've got them covered there. 

Even with a fair number of beaus growing up (five in the first year and a half of HS before dating my "high school sweetheart" the remaining two years) I did struggle with self esteem issues around my weight. After my HS sweetheart and I broke up I went through a depression that really took it (the wanting to date) out of me. I just didn't feel attractive or desirable. He didn't tell me I was fat, or give me an ultimatum to lose weight. We just broke up (like you do when you're in high school).

For the most part (after highschool) I just wasn't interested in dating. I did toy around with internet dating here and there. I remember one date I went on. He took me to see the (newer) Planet of the Apes. (Yippee?) I didn't even bother asking him up afterwards. I said "Thanks, have a good night" and closed the car door.

Then there was the guy in college. The rebel who drank vodka out of a 7-up bottle during our English Freshman seminar. The smooth talker who, when I was upset with him, would spout lines from cheesy romance movies (I'm talking "You complete me" level). The one who as soon as I slept with him wouldn't give me the time of day....yeah not a highlight in the Men-In-My-Life.

Then somewhere a few years ago things changed - I opened up to the idea of dating again and as a result met my sweetie. (See our love story here). 

*     *     *

I think it's wonderful that more and more people are "coming out" as appreciators and admirers of curvy/plump/heavy/plus-size women and men...let's not forget those of us who appreciate a stockier built man. 

I'm a plus size woman. I like men with meat on their bones. I like someone who enjoys going out and trying new food and doesn't expect me to eat a garden salad when there's pasta on the menu (I mean really now I'm 1/2 Italian!)

It bothers me sometimes when I see/hear friends express feelings about being unattractive. Everyone is desirable to someone. I truly believe that you just need to embrace yourself and see yourself as deserving and desirable before you can expect others too (or at least before you can expect to start noticing that others do already)

To close I just have this to say. 

If you don't understand how or why someone is attracted to me.... Just don't worry about it, no one's making you take me out in the first place.

I'm a "Slut"

I have breasts. 

I have hips.

I have thighs and a stomach. 

I have curves I [try to] embrace. 

I like to show off my curves with skirts and tank tops. 

I like to bundle up in baggy yoga pants and sweat shirts. 

He was my boyfriend. 

It was not violent. 

It was over quicker than it started. 

I still don't identify as a rape "victim"

I'm tired of labels. 

I'm tired of hearing the term "asking for it"

I didn't ask for it and I've only been with 2 men. 

Yet, according to some [police officer below] I'm a slut and I was asking for it.

*     *     *

‘Sluts’ march against sexual assault stereotypes
by Nicki Thomas

In fishnets and stilettos, t-shirts and jeans, a three-piece suit and a birthday suit, hundreds of self-proclaimed “sluts” marched through downtown Toronto Sunday afternoon, protesting a police officer’s suggestion that women could avoid sexual assault by not dressing provocatively.

Polly Esther walked off the subway in a plunging neckline and knee-high platform boots to join the noisy, spirited march from Queen’s Park to police headquarters on College St. She raised a hand-lettered sign, its simple but stark message definitive of that of the protest: “Xmas 1985. 14 years old. Bundled in layers. How did I deserve it?”

“It has nothing to do with what you’re wearing,” said Esther, 39. “And I’m living proof of that.”

SlutWalk, as organizers coined the march, was a response to comments made by a Toronto police officer during a safety forum at York University’s Osgoode Hall Law School in late January. Const. Michael Sanguinetti is said to have told the room that “women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimized.”

Sanguinetti has since apologized to the university and been investigated by the professional standards unit. He was disciplined internally, the details of which have not been made public, and is still on the job in 31 Division, though not working Sunday.

Police were quick to publicly condemn Sanguinetti’s comment, saying it is counter to what officers are taught about sexual assault. In a statement sent to the SlutWalk organizers and the media last Friday, Chief Bill Blair said the remarks “place the blame upon victims, and that’s not where the blame should ever be placed.”

“If that type of, frankly, archaic thinking still exists among any of my officers, it highlights for me the need to continue to train my officers and sensitize them to the reality of victimization,” he said.

But SlutWalk organizers made it clear Sunday that they are not satisfied with the response. 

Co-founder Heather Jarvis said the group made three requests from police: to restructure training and education, implement existing third-party recommendations on that training and education and improve public outreach programs, with an emphasis on consent and “rape myths.”

“They didn’t actually respond to a single one of our requests,” Jarvis said.

The group also invited police to address Sunday’s crowd alongside speakers like Jane Doe, the activist who successfully sued the police after she was assaulted by a serial rapist and is still highly critical of procedures around sexual assault training and investigation.

“It’s not about one bad apple cop,” Doe told the cheering crowd. “It’s about an institution that is permeated with these kinds of notions and beliefs.”

Spokeswoman Const. Wendy Drummond said police did provide SlutWalk organizers with an outline of changes made to training and investigations in the wake of a 2010 review, the second since the Auditor General’s 1999 report on police procedures around sexual assault.

“We have reached out to them,” Drummond said. “But wanting to put us up there and not be heard, is just not something that we’re going to do.”

Future SlutWalks are planned in other cities, including Vancouver, Ottawa and Boston.

http://www.thestar.com/News/GTA/article/968466

Coin toss + Vodka Dress = Lobster Red

Normally when going around a game of "truth or dare" or even some (lame) team building activity when you're supposed to tell your "Most Embarrassing Moment" I come up with nothing. I draw a blank. No childhood traumatic event. No dress tucked into my pantyhose. Nothing.

Well after tonight....THAT ALL HAS CHANGED!

Before I continue let me remind you of the following:

1. I've only been at this school for 5 months

2. This was the company holiday party of 80+ people (most of whom I hadn't met until this evening).

So the party is going along just fine. I've managed to find something to eat and have visited the bar 3 times. I'm at a table with some people from my office suite and some people I'm only slightly familiar with. Things are going well. I'm comfortable. I'm laughing and having a good time and comes Jeopardy.

(Once you keep reading you'll see why I feel the game chosen was slightly ironic)

So the Advancement Department (i.e. $$) has put together a game of Jeopardy. Two teams of five and someone on the winning team could win a WEEK IN CABO SAN LUCAS!!!

My name gets called to be "Team Captain" of the white team (white vs red)! Okay. I never win anything but hey, who knows...maybe this time? So they finish picking teams (names drawn out of a hat style) and they ask for the team captains to come up to the front to flip a coin - seeing which team gets to go first.

And when I say "to the front" I mean at the front of this giant ballroom, all people's eyes on the impending coin-toss....remember 80+ people....

"Ladies first"

"Heads!"

*flip coin*

...where did the coin go?

Can you guess?

YEP!!! THEY FLIPPED THE COIN RIGHT INTO MY CLEAVAGE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

At first no one knew what happened. The MC (president of the school), the coin-flipper (member of Advancement Dept) and the Red Team Captain are all looking around on the floor for the coin. The audience starts murmuring and wondering why they aren't announcing if it was heads or tails. I make eye contact with the coin-tosser and tell him he's not getting his coin back. That's when EVERYONE realized what had happened and where the coin had "disappeared" to.

So of course, in case anyone missed that my breasts had been turned into a coin machine, the President of the school says into the microphone "I think we're going to need another coin"!

I'm sure I turned as red as a lobster! I've never blushed so hard in my life. As they're turned to the audience to find another coin I turn my back to the crowd (unfortunately this puts me boobs to face with my boss and her husband - both of whom were on my team) and fish out the coin. If it had landed directly in my bra - I might have left it there. But it landed between the outside of my bra and my dress. So I knew if I left it there it would eventually fall out the bottom of my dress. I'd rather fish it out then look like I shit out a coin while walking across the dance floor.

Although really. In the end I should have known...

When the girls are out - everything is in jeopardy of being "eaten" by my cleavage.