For most of my life, my hips have measured about thirty-five inches. That’s a respectable size, right? Okay, in the last couple of years, I find that my arse has grown. I’m not complaining, just stating a fact. My husband Alex has the wonderful sensibility that tells him “more is better” so it’s not a concern about my now thirty-eight inch butt. (I could also talk about my twenty-four inch waist, but who is kidding who or whom as the case may be!) I haven’t seen that little waist in a few years now. Never mind, we’re talking butts here.
A couple of months ago, my good friend Cynthia and her husband Jack came to dinner. Since I was wearing figure molding black pants, I asked them both if they noticed anything different. Cynthia looked at my butt and said, “No, you look fine.” I then asked them if they could tell I had Brazilian butt implants. Cynthia, cynic that she is, said “oh don’t be silly,” but her husband Jack said, “Did you really?” I told Jack, “Feel. You can’t even tell, can you?” He dutifully felt my butt and said it felt natural to him. I winked at him and said that’s the magic of plastic surgery!
Cynthia accused me of just being a harlot and a little whore and wanting her husband to feel my ass. Alex, my husband just kept stirring the pasta and looking somewhat bored. Cynthia asked me, “when did you get this done when I email you every day and you’ve never mentioned it?’ Okay, Cynthia, I don’t tell you everything! She scoffed. I shrugged and wiggled my eyebrows mysteriously.
Dinner was great! When they were leaving, Jack whispered to me, “Did you really get implants?” I smiled. It’s so much better and more appealing to have Brazilian butt implants than it is to simply say “no, I just have a fat butt.”