My Girl Got Big 'ol Bootie!

There's a song that we dance to in Zumba... and one of the chorus's to a good butt lifting routine says something along the lines of, "My girl got big 'ol bootie!"

This line has been running through my head ALL. DAY. LONG. At first it was kind of sweet. I first sang it at 7 a.m. when I picked my little baby girl out of her crib and noticed she was poopy. We danced and giggled at one another as I sang it to her. She even got a little jiggly jig in the mirror as I shook shook my bootie too. It was cute.

And then I sang it again as I watched my three year old adorable daughter running to the front door of the YMCA gym that I attend. She has such a cute little run, swinging her hips side to side shaking her bum before eating cement. Hard. Like every day.

My girl got big 'ol bootie!

And then as I was working out I thought about it. My daughter's have my bootie. My BIG 'OL BOOTIE! And I had to laugh a little. Having a big butt isn't a bad thing, but as a girl I was always mocked and picked on for my bootie.

I developed at an EARLY age. Like 34C in 7th grade developed. It sucked. I hated it and me because of it. The worst part of developing early is the unwanted attention it drew to my young body. My big 'ol bootie was a target for naughty little boy hands and that is what started my unhealthy relationship with food. But alas, I digress...

There was a time when a close friend told me I was super pretty. She told me her mom said I was the prettiest girl that ever entered their home. She said I could be a model.

WOW.

What nice words! I ate them up. I thought I was super fly and uber cool.

But then she said that the only thing that was holding me back was ...  you guessed it! MY BIG 'OL BOOTIE.

Yup. She said I was perfect except for my butt. It was just too big.

Wuh wuh... Totally deflation. I was crushed and once again hated my body and therefore myself.

So as I giggle at my daughters' beautiful dancing tushes, I worry a little. I adore and love all three of my children and my past makes me quite the mother bear. And I hope that I can teach them to love themselves regardless of what other's say. That they will learn to appreciate what Heavenly Father has blessed them with. 

But the one thing I will make sure they know ... is that having a big 'ol bootie ain't all that bad. That THEY ARE BEAUTIFUL no matter if they have bootie or not.

Because someday- someday they will look at their husbands and think to themselves, "Oh yeah, HIS girl got big 'ol bootie!"

Cause I know my husband does.

 And that my friends, aint such a bad thing. ;)

Photo's of me are from September 2005.

Love Nikki!

Holla Back Y'all!

Welcome back to my page of physical pain and doom. Er ... I mean ... Hello? Haha! A lot has happened in my monthly hiatus but I am back, again.

Isn't it funny how I seem to disappear for long periods of time? Well let me clue you in on a little secret. If I have disapeared, then generally I have fallen off the wagon or am injured. Again.

And I have fallen off... because of another injury!

Injury, injury, where art thou injury???

But instead of this being a blog about my injury I will just tell you that I fell two months ago and DESTROYED my husband's rubikscube. AS IN OBLITERATED! And in the process pee'd my pants screaming in miserary. I literally PEE'D myself as I bellowed in pure agony at the impact my knee made with the floor.

While I was whimpering and possibly cursing, my husband lifted my big ol' butt off the ground (or rather helped me roll over) and then I almost puked. My knee was the size of a cantelope! I thought I had flipped my patella! My cap was wrong... just WRONG...

ACK!!!!! YUCK!!! OUWIEEEEEE!!!!

OKAY. So that is that and I am quite the drama queen. My knee cap never dislocated and I apparently have the lowest pain thrush hold eva! EVA!!! (Scream that out loud just for fun. It should sound something like "ever." SHOULD being the operative word...)

So here I sit with a HUGE smile on my face because today I am physically FATIGUED! For the first time in two months I was able to reach that super high that only illegal activity or exercise can create. Woo. I am on FIRE. And I am exhausted.

After two classes of Zumba and an hour of abs and weight lifting I can honestly say I don't care about what I weigh... because no fattie can rock that.

And I ROCKED it!

So here are some words from me to the young girl who snickered at me during class tonight:

Yeah. I'm big. But I am the most awesome 28 year old mom you will ever meet. You keep laughing honey cause I smoked you in class today. I noticed you stopped snickering when my booty shook harder than yours and I also noticed you sat down when I still worked the floor like a fake professional dancer. Oh yeah. Someday you will get it after you have three kids yourself. Someday. In the meantime? Your rude snickers only make me feel sad for you... because instead of making fun of the fat girl in class, you could have been having a "real" experience yourself. But that's okay... because you know what? I ROCKED IT!!! :) Even as you were making fun of me.

I ROCKED IT!