Brothers, sisters, glory be! My mother was just here for a visit and there was no mention of my extraordinarily flat, nonexistent ass. I like blogging about my Mom. She's such an odd little woman that I just can't help turning her visits into blogable anecdotes.
I'm still trying to work out how my Mom managed to stay at our place for 10 days without mentioning the ass. I suspect she was just itching to tell me how my ass defies physics by rejecting any hint of roundness, but she held her tongue this time. She likes to emphasise that her own ass is pronounced, and usually connects that to her love of dance. Yeah...I don't know either. I like to dance in the privacy of my own home, and I don't think the flatness of my ass hinders me in any way.
There is a new theme to her visits which seem to have supplanted the ass fixation - weight gain. I had a baby nine months ago and I'm having a bit of difficulty losing my baby gut and excess boobage. Sorry. I go out on walks, try to eat healthy, but the Pipgut remains as do some other jiggly bits I'd like to banish. I plan on focusing on this issue shortly, but I have been otherwise engaged. You know, child-rearing and trying to keep my house from looking like a college student's bedroom.
My Mom is no waif. She's not a large woman either, but apparently we are now compatriots in fatness. Before I tell you the gems she came out with, I will add that I was not as thin as I wanted to be pre-pregnancy. Thanks to PCOS I gained about 30lbs in my early 20s and never managed to shed the weight. Point being, I haven't gone from being a stick insect to a bloated tick. More like a moderately full tick to bloated tick. With big tits.
Before my Mom's arrival she asked if I wanted her to bring me any clothes from the US. I stressed that no, I did not want any clothes at all. None. Will not wear them due to morbid obesity. I even told her that I only have a rotation of two different trousers and 4 tops because I refuse to go shopping in my current state. I find it depressing and would rather not be forced to ponder the weight I have neglected to lose in these 9 whole months.
What does she do? Oh, bring clothes of course. It was only one full outfit and a pair of trousers, but it was much more than I wanted. The pair of trousers were her castoffs, as her ass was apparently too big for them. Naturally the thought process was that ol' flat ass would slip into them with nary a cheek too wide. As it happens they fit lovely in the ass, but not so much in the stomach. Do you think it's necessary to fasten a pair of pants, or could I just go with the zipper half up? Hmm...so much to ponder.
A few days into her visit Mom dispensed some fashion advice for those hauling around remaining baby weight - wear a tunic! They're stylish! They're lightweight! You can't lose! Her actual words were, "Before you go back to work you should buy some of those tunics that are so in right now. It will cover up that stomach." That stomach. It's its own entity now, so giant is its size.
Offensive weight - related statement number two : "Pru, when I gained a whole lot of weight I didn't want to go shopping either. It was too depressing, so I know how you feel." Thanks Mom. I'm going to go haul my massive gut to the kitchen and eat some icing straight out of the can.
Third and final weight comment before I flipped the fuck out and told her to stop talking about my girth: "Do you know what's flattering for women carrying a bit of extra weight? Wrap tops and wrap dresses. They make you look much smaller than you are."
I know she could have said far more offensive things, but I don't like talking about my weight at all. Uh, except for here. I don't want to think about not fitting into my old clothes, or new clothes for that matter. I certainly don't want people to acknowledge that I have weight to lose. Though I know I do, it somehow seems all the more obvious if other people see fit to mention it.
I suppose there is just something about me which inspires others to make weight-related comments. When I worked at a very large US chain bookstore which rhymes with "hoarders", a colleague and I were talking about rules put forth by a tyrannical manager. In an attempt at solidarity she said, "Us big girls need to stick together." It is worth noting that I was about a size 8-10 and girlfriend had at least 50-60lbs on me. I was not happy with my weight at the time, but I wondered how I must have looked to other people if this woman saw me as being the same size as she was.
This incident always fresh in my mind, it didn't help when my brother-in-law was lamenting the size of his wife's breasts, looked at me and said, "No disrespect, but often women with big boobs are a bit fatter than women with small ones." Implication being, my wife = no boobs, but thin and gorgeous, you = boobalicious but a bit on the large side. We were at a posh Indian restaurant at the time and needless to say my appetite was suddenly suppressed.
The moral to this long, drawn out, oh-woe-is-me post is : if you see me out on the street, don't tell me what clothes would best suit me, or give me tips on how to disguise my Pipgut. At this point I would even welcome any comments about my flat ass.