You tell me. Because from where I’m standing, beautiful feels…HUGE.
You should know I’m slender—some would say ravishing. And I’ve grown only more attractive since I took a class in Calligraphy-slash-Dance. But “grown” is the operative word here. My beauty—and the guy who loiters at the bodega down the street calls me “hotter than a roman candle in a tin can,”—feels VAST.
(OCEANIC, I tell you! Please! This is a message in a bottle!)
Even parentheses are useless now, like a belt made from a rubber band.
All of my life, for the sake of everyone, plus, I admit, my own vanity, I have tried to take up as little space as possible. I hired a bulimic in college to give me the inside scoop; I swathed myself in Saran Wrap (when it wasn’t tight enough, I used a vacuum sealer!). My majorette’s uniform from junior high always fit me, and I sucked in my belly and—vital to mention—tucked in my perky, protuberant butt.
But these efforts were vain! Rather than make me beautiful, they made me walk like a wooden drawing model in fear of bulging and creasing.
Now that I finally feel beautiful—from the dancing and the calligraphy and the calligraphy and the dancing!—no amount of sucking in and tucking in can contain my capacious radiance. It plain makes me nervous: My boyfriend kisses my cheek, and my face goes round like a Gerber daisy! He gives me a squeeze, and I beam, unbounded! My beauty is massive, humongous, immense. I have completely lost track of my edges and confess my butt’s on an ever-lengthening leash.
Unless I put a lid on this wild and runaway beauty, it will exceed the volume of my one-bedroom apartment—my new apartment, with the 20-foot ceilings to accommodate what feels like a gorgeous, towering, Marie Antoinette wig of pink troll fur. True, it balances out my prodigious rotunda of a unicorn’s butt and my ecstatic, butterfly net fingers.
But where will it (I) end?
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Dayna Vance
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Comments
I have found over the years that most babes are not happy with their own butt even when they are in tip-top shape. As one who monitors this matter, I am often amazed at the number of seemingly in good shape babes will wear the long shirt or top and try to distract from the butt, while there are some plump and thick babes who wear short shirts and the full and tight jeans which bulge out for all to see.
Another thing I notice is the confidence, or lack of it, that a babe has about her body in public and how she presents herself. I see one cute babe most mornings on my way to work who could definitely stand to lose a few pounds around the hips, yet she often wears low rise jeans and walks with a lot of confidence. I have enjoyed watching her walk and sit down and getting some glances of her butt crack - even though there are some thinner babes who keep it covered.
So it is how you present yourself, and what your man thinks that are most important. Otherwise, don't hide it!!
I wanted to talk about how when you feel pretty you actually take up psychic space in the world, you radiate outward. I think when we try to corset ourselves with as small a personal space as possible, we end up goading our bodies into bulking up--almost like we're in an argument with them that we can't win. I think that imagining lots of space around you in itself makes you beautiful!
And IC--she said "beauty," not "booty." Though to some, they are one and the same.
I've been wanting to write a piece slightly like this for a bit: where I just "vain out" and compliment myself silly, to enormous proportions.
Kudos for your boldness and fun concept.