Yes, Queen, the group, not the royal one. I was driving home after the very empty knitting circle at Jennie's church and searching the radio station. On comes "Fat Bottomed Girls". Haven't heard that in years, probably at least a decade. It brought back memories of listening to that song, the first public positive message I had about my ass. Now you might know that most women remember puberty as being marked by breast development, in my case it was the ass.
Remember albums? Well that's what I listened to music on back then, I remember picking up the needle and moving it back over and over to let the message sink into my soul. It's kind of laughable now, given the sweet, little, gentle bubble butt I had back then. I mean how could that little squeeze bottom have caused me any angst. Now, decades of abuse, gains and losses, but mostly gains of weight, gravity of being middle age, spending more time in a chair than hiking around NYC, NOW I have a sizeable ass. I am lucky in that my girl is a proud ass woman. She adores mine, describes it as heart shaped, proclaims that she has yet to see an ass that rivals mine. She's a keeper, I tell ya!
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