Jelly

In my family, there’s something called a Zezza butt.

It’s a really nice ass, larger than most, but perky and round.

I’ve got a Zezza butt.

As does my cousin Jennifer and my brother Art.

We’ve even taken a picture of all our asses, lined up (I’m #2 in the lineup).

Not everyone likes Zezza butt, but they should.

It’s pretty awesome.

I recall one instance in fact when a very athletic burner requested that we fool around in his RV SPECIFICALLY BECAUSE HE WANTED TO SEE “DAT ASS.”

It has slowly dawned on me that some people like curvy women.

Some people like slim women.

And some people LIKE ALL WOMEN.

I’ve given up trying to hide my body, which will never look like Heidi Klum’s, and am working on embracing all that JUNK IN MY TRUNK.

Starting with buying some short shorts for the Burn.

Okay, I DID buy a pair of shorts a few weeks ago that were (optimistically) two sizes smaller than my current size.

I’ve now replaced those shorts with booty hugging, booty boosting, putting-it-all-on-display jean shorts.

Four pairs, to be exact.

That way I’m sure to find something I like.

No, I won’t look like Jessica Simpson in my shorts but fuck, I like my thick thighs.

And other people do too.

They feel just as good wrapped around a sturdy man as slim ones.

And stuffing all my jelly into a pair of Daisy Dukes just gives me a little thrill.

Hope it gives you a thrill too. . .

Junk in the trunk

Speaking of JUNK IN THE TRUNK, I worked on a project over the weekend – a pale pink tutu which I lit up with pink fairy lights.

I had to stitch the fairy lights to the tutu and let me tell you, IT WAS NOT FUN.

You try using TRANSPARENT fishing line to stitch a thin wire to the gauziest of fabrics and see how well it works for you.

Actually, what I am doing here is bitching about my eyesight, which is not what it used to be.

So, I finish stitching the lights to the inside of the skirt and I slip it on to check it out.

Lo and behold, the tutu rests 14 inches down the front of my thighs. . .

. . .and the back of the tutu barely covers my ass on account of all the JUNK IN MY TRUNK.

Of course, Tejas tried to make me feel better.

He reminded me that come August, I will be smaller than I am now because of my diet.

[Of course this didn’t help me feel better since the diet has sorta gone by the wayside.]

Look at ALL THAT JELLY!

Seriously.

You could serve tea on my ass, it’s that big!

“I’m gonna need to buy some pink ruffle panties,” I tell Tejas.

“Who knows. . . by the time Burning Man rolls around, you might be wearing a thong., “ he replied (way more optimistically than he should have given that he KNOWS how bad the diet is going.)

Optimism.