Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Forever in Blue Jeans

Today I turn 46. I’m trying to make peace with it. I’m trying to wrap my head around this “aging gracefully” thing.

How does one attempt to age gracefully when time begins to kick your ass?

My eyelids look like Droopy Dog’s, I’ve got jowls, and laugh lines, and crow’s feet, and a bat cape–which is infinitely worse than bat wings, and boobs that require wires of steel to keep them up where they were 25 years ago, and a pooch from 2 babies and a C-section scar and curtains and mud flaps and spider veins and bunions from trying to wear those cute strappy high heels and hands and knees that ache allowing me to forecast the weather and numerous other issues. I take horse pills for maladies and lotion and lubricate and don’t eat carbs and attempt to exercise on a regular basis and I don’t smoke anymore and try to drink the right kind of wine and wear sensible shoes and bifocals. Seriously, all of it is a quite exhausting and a bit depressing.

But you know what really pisses me off about aging?

My inability to find a pair of jeans that fit, that don’t cost as much as a mortgage payment.

At least a couple times a year I drag my semi-sagging derriere to the mall, or some other shopping venue, in an attempt to hunt down a pair of pants. I walk in the door feeling optimistic, only to leave a couple hours later with my hopes dashed, my hair flat, and tears of shame running down my face. All of this the result of tugging and twisting and bending and pulling and zipping and buttoning and jumping up and down and hopping on one foot and when finally getting each of the 50 pairs on, to be met with flat ass or muffin top or camel toe or moose knuckle or too big in the waist and too tight in the knees or poopy diaper bottom or under my boobs high or crack of my ass baring low.

What, in the name of all that is holy, is so damn difficult about making a pair of jeans that will fit a woman?

Until they figure it out, I’ll be sitting over here in my mu-mu.

**This was originally a guest posting on Valley Girl Gone Country, but I thought some of you might have missed it, so I’m posting it again.  🙂


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10 thoughts on “Forever in Blue Jeans

  1. I know the feeling. I haven’t worn a pair of jeans in ages! I’m pissed about it, too. Why is it so difficult? Hey, mu-mus are stylish. Wishing you a wonderful birthday!! Enjoy.

  2. I spent hours today buying white jeans that didn’t make me look like I’d the arse my grandmother had. It was a fail, but I bought them anyway.

  3. Loved this post. You’ve done it again, dropped me smack right in the middle of the change room with you. You have a real gift for writing descriptive images.

    p.s. What on earth are moose knuckles?

    • Thanks!! Sorry you had to be in there and hear all the grunting and groaning. Lol.

      Technically I think moose knuckles are when a guy wears their britches way too tight. At least that’s what I refer to as a moose knuckle. I just threw the term in their for the hell of it because it always makes me laugh.

      • Haha it is a good description. After reading you though I don’t doubt you have some serious balls.

        Also as a Canadian, you hear moose and you think how have I never heard that term
        before? Thanks for enlightening me.

      • Bitches got to have balls. Sometimes that’s what it takes. Lol

        Now go and moose knuckle freely!

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