Beyond Ghetto Booty

I can feel my ass. Not with my hands (though I could do that if I choose, but ew), I can just feel its presence. You know what I mean? Like when I walk today, I am just all too aware of my ass and its largeness, straining against the fabric of my jeans. It's grossing me out! Every step produces the sensation of my attached butt cheek swinging it's big way around and back, alternating with the other in some awful waddling movement. It's like someone slabbed a couple of rotisserie chickens on back there and is making me walk around with them stuck on my butt. Some people are proud when their butt is big and round. I would be if the roudness was narrow and curved appealingly out away from my back and back into some shapely legs. But mine seems to be a big pile of mush that extends widely into saddlebags and glops its way into my legs in some sort of butt/thigh convergence with some cellulite sprinkled in for good measure. Good grief, it's pathetic. How many cans of cream and kettlebell workouts will it take for me to de-grotesque my derriere?? Lots. Until then, I'll just be trying hard to wear flowy pants and/or control-top pantyhose to try to contain the jiggling enough to avoid my own gagging.