A Big Ole Slice of Jiggable Pie

(originally posted via y360 - September 2007)

(I couldn’t jack the picture I wanted to include with today’s blog, but for a hilarious start to your reading experience, click here (It’s my personal page on my bike club’s website and the picture to which I’m referring you is on the bottom).

**I’ll allow a pause for the laughter to stop**

I was driving into work this morning, enjoying the majesty of this BEAUTIMOUSLY GORGEOUS day, when I began to smile, and kinda bump my shoulders to the beat of one of my all time favorite songs… AMG’s “Jiggable Pie”… For those who don’t listen to hip-hop, that’s a classic track about a brother professing his love for the big ole bootie.

Then I got to thinking about myself, and how I’ve been painting myself with a stiff brush lately. Actually I’ve been kind of hard on myself appearance-wise for most of my life, at least when it comes to how I look without my clothes. (I keep up a good look when I dressed MOST of the time thanks to the engineering marvels of my bras and other assorted shapewear.)

I listened to this young man on the track enthusiastically singing the praises and enjoyment of the bootie and I smiled to myself. I’ve never had the misfortune of dealing with a guy who harped on my weight or my over-ample curves – trust and believe that if I DID run across such an idiot he would be summarily dismissed with, as my girl Saki is often wont to say, the L.A. Quickness. I have people lined up around the block to abuse me. I don’t need that shit in my relationship!

I was even discussing this with one of my homegirls (and I asked her permission before bringing this into today’s blog, lest I find myself harmlessly passing along information, but I digress) and she was telling me that even though her man might become a wee bit critical if she was putting on too much weight… once she started hitting the gym real hard and her tummy flattened out too much for his liking, he was just as quick to point that out… and he went on further to state that her kind of body, in all of its imperfections, was the mark of a BEAUTIFUL woman. He said he didn’t have a use for a young thang, all toned and taut.

Last night, I left work too late to make my gym date with Sunee and DEFINITELY too late to see a dance class. What I was busy doing was ripping and running all over town desperately trying to find a UPS driver to get a package into a shipment. In so doing, I passed not ONE but TWO gentlemen in the space of five minutes on the street who were practically falling all over me, both to tell me how pretty they thought I was, and show their appreciation for all my curves.

That got me to thinking back to all the major relationships I’ve had, and how each of those men enjoyed my body. There was the one who was all into my inner thighs because he said he’d never experienced anything so soft. There was the one who would lie with me quietly in the dark and find one place to touch me as we drifted off to sleep… typically one of the “softer” spots on my lower-back-heading-for-the-bootie. There have been other who adored my “girls”, even though they’re not so perky or firm. There is the one who can't get enough of being next to me because I'm so soft and I radiate a pleasurable warmth. Thinking back in all of that I realize that not ONE of those folks ever complained about ANYTHING on this body. NOTHING... and even paid homage to the places I dislike the most. There's a powerful message in there, y'all.

I have remarked many times before that for men, it’s just not that difficult. We women make it so hard for ourselves. Hell.. by the time you get back to the room and it’s time to do the THANGTHANG… they don’t care so much that you don’t have a Tyra Banks body. What ruins the experience is how WE bring all our insecurities to light, hiding under blankets, undressing in the bathroom, insisting on making love in total darkness.

Well, YOU KNOW WHAT.. FUCK THAT! If just for one day… I say to hell with it all… and I’m going to smile my biggest smile, and heartily accept whatever compliments come my way, and I’m not going to care that I’m the biggest girl in dance class, or on the bike set… I’m just going to be Big Ole Pretty Tracey… and feel good about all my voluptuous curves.