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That will be the title of my next book about a donkey. Clearly it is not a statement about the current condition of my backside. It used to be amazing, but two kids later and it is now, just an ass.



I remember when I was about nineteen a guy that I had a huge crush on made a statement as I climbed up the ladder on to the boat. He was still in the water behind me and when he climbed on to the boat, he said, “You have the greatest ass”. For weeks after that, I would use a little compact mirror to check out my rear in the bathroom mirror. What was all of the fuss about? I mean, yes it was firm, but I was nineteen. I am quite sure I probably took every chance I could to flaunt my butt in front of him. I never did go out with him, not because I didn’t have the opportunity, but because I knew all of the girls he had already dated and quite frankly I had no desire to get anything that “itched” or “burned”.


Fast forward twenty years and now what I wouldn’t give to have that ass again. I guess that is not entirely true, I wouldn’t give my kids. It’s ironic that the one thing that causes the most change to the size of your ass can also be the biggest pain in your ass. Let’s just end it there.

Does This Taffeta Dress Make My Ass Look Fat?

My daughter is six and for most six year old girls, nothing is more important than being a princess. So when her birthday party was approaching it was obvious that we would have to have a Princess Party. Dress up clothes, shoes, makeup, nails, runway show, cake and a piñata. What? Princesses with a baseball bat, beating a defenseless piñata till candy spills out on the floor so they can knock each other down to get the most candy? Yes, that’s exactly right. Soooo un-princess like, but fabulous to watch nonetheless.

So, the day arrived and seven girls from her Kindergarten class showed up for the party all dressed up in their best princess dresses. Three hours of high pitched screams, attitude and thankfully a lot of smiles and laughs and just as planned the piñata was a GREAT idea. Little girls are princesses, even when swinging a blue, foam covered t-ball bat.

I started to wonder what it would be like to be a princess at my age. 40 years old wearing a taffeta dress and plastic shoes with a shiny crown did not make for a pretty picture. Not a good look for my ass at the moment. Kinda looks like I am trying to smuggle a Virginia ham. And those plastic shoes, well let’s just say I need a great pedicure and some good foot cream to pull this off.


Seriously, there are still real princesses in the world, but at some point in most every girls life, we stop dreaming of being a princess and start dreaming of what we will become in the real world. But why do we stop dreaming of being a princess? Not the kind of princess rescued by a prince and slaying a fire breathing dragon (I know I’ve seen Shrek one too many times), but one of the current princesses of the world or for that matter why not a Queen? I mean, Queen Rania of Jordan is beautiful, smart and rich. She is a mother, a wife, a boss, an advocate, and a humanitarian. All of that and she probably has more shoes than a girl could ever dream of! For some reason, when we get a little older we dream about being a famous actress or model instead of someone who actually serves a purpose in this world. News flash, many of the famous actresses have marriages that never last, go to rehab and end up broke and alone. Nice dream.


I think being a princess would be amazing. I am starting to dream about it again. Besides, the real princesses don’t ever have to wear taffeta...I’m in.
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