The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big, Round Things

Image is everything, especially when you're a hormonal teenage girl. Or a female of any age really. People always say, "Beauty is only skin deep" and "It's what's on the inside that matters." Well, I say, bull-freaking-crap. When you are a shy, socially-awkward, nineteen year old college student who hasn't had a date and/or boyfriend, you can't help but wonder if there's something wrong with the way you look.

Now, don't get me wrong, by no means do I think myself ugly, monstrous, or horribly disfigured. But I do find things wrong with me. Who doesn't?

Basically:

I have a HUGE ass. I am told this all the time, by my teammates in the locker room, my neighbors in my dorm, and my pledgesisters. I am told this is not a bad thing, unless I'm on the wrong side of town at night. But when your waist says you're a size 9, but you've got to buy an 11 because you can't get your pants past your humongous hips, you've got a problem. Shopping depresses me, because no one wants to be reminded that they don't look like the Victoria's Secret models. I never know what size I am, because not only does sizing vary by designer, I never know if I should try to buy clothes based on my waistline or my butt. I always have to wear a belt with my pants and shorts, because I don't feel like flashing the world my underpants when my butt invariably drags my pants down. And a word from the wise: getting pants tailored is expensive.

So thanks, Madre. The only Latina genes you passed on to me turned out to be a curse, especially since you did not give me awesome Shakira hips to go with my giant butt. If I could dance, I would accept this a bit more. I could blame my dad for the large tush, but, even though most of his side if the family is a bit on the heavy side, their backsides are all as flat as a brick wall.

Speaking of genetics...

I am indeed half Hispanic. My mother is Puerto Rican, Cuban, and Spanish. My dad is German and French. Guess who I took after? Yep, I inherited white-girl dancing and a distinct inability to tan well. My brother took after my mom. He's super-skinny AND he can tan (bastard).

And thus goes the introduction to this blog-thingy. It's basically the space where I can bitch about things that I can't bitch about on Facebook, because I'm friends with my family, and I'm paranoid that, even though my entire profile is blocked from them, they still might see something I don't want them to find out about.