The Badonkadonk

I literally cannot sleep lately.  I cannot sleep unless I write a blog.

It's actually pretty annoying.  I lie there with my eyes blinking at a dark ceiling.  Even my cats are annoyed.  Lando was lying at my feet just moments ago and my constant shifting caused him to stir, meow disgruntedly, and trot over to daddy's side of the bed. 

So the lights went back on.  Into the loft where 2 other cats were resting.  They both lifted their heads simultaneously at me as if to say "can't sleep again, huh?'

I tore into bread that was still in a to-go box leftover from dinner.  I was waging a confrontation with my body.  Because if my body is going to keep me awake I say "screw it" and sabotage it by breaking into that delightful yet sinfully carbohydrated treat.  Oh.  Yea.  And with extra monosaturated butter, mmm please.

I'm bitter.  I'm so bitter. I want to lie in bed and drift away.  Holey, Holey Crabmuffin.  I totally just seg-wayed.  I was totally meaning to write about my badonkadonk.  OK.  Let's start over.

One of the things I got from my mom, or rather- did not get, was a booty.  For years, pretty flat as a wall.  I mean, it wasn't the saddest behind you'd ever seen- and what I lacked in behind I made up for in personality.  I mean, who's looking at my lovely lady humps when I can't stop talking???

And I acknowledged it and it is a trait my siblings and I share, along with my mama.  Pretty decent human beings.  No criminal records to speak of.  But dang we done had us some sad behinds.  I assumed we all carried the same genetic marker for a gluteus 'minumus' instead of a gluteus maximus.

But I kid you NOT I have got a proper backside now.  From whence it came, I cannot say.  I asked Lloyd tonight when he thought I got it.  Always the diplomat, he didn't have a very solid answer.  I could tell he wasn't sure if the question was a trap.  I mean, yea.  I have pulled the ol' traperooski "am I getting fat?" question without actually asking the question a dozen times before, but I swore to him I needed an honest answer, of which he gracefully bowed out.

But I am not hating on the booty.  Quite the contrary.  It is rapidly beating out my feet as my favorite body part. 

Is it the stairs in my house?  I mean, I am working from home a lot and do a helluvalotta cleaning and henceforth get a lot of stairclimbing, but surely it can't just be that?

Is it my vegetarian diet?  Is it all the squats I be doing in my gym classes?  You know, those classes I take that might as well not count because I come home and eat a whole pizza-classes?  Is it those?

I feel like a genetically enhanced family member.  I started to notice the changes about a year ago and I am now prepared to confirm it, publically, to ya'll via the wonderful world wide web.

Classy.

I read online somewhere that women's body weight tends to shift with age.  And if I am allowed to make any special requests I will take slightly larger calfs, please. 

But for now, I am quite pleased with my behind.  While not exactly newsworthy, I need to catch up on some sleep and this was the closest thing to a revelation I've had all day.   Good night.... (Please don't try to catch a glimpse of my hillside).