(added 12/11/06)

Some thoughts of a New York City white girl who's blessed with a nice big ole booty.  She calls herself an
Experienced Buttgirl

When you live in New York City as a big-assed girl, you learn male-admirer management.

There are the:
a. blank-starers
b. turn-arounders
c. under-their-breath-mumblers
d. passersby-yellers and the actual
e. in-person-addressers.

These variations are sometimes combined and they come from lone men and those in groups

Each of them is dealt with differently. Reactions depend on the degree of attraction to the person, the scale of kindness or rudeness and the personal tolerance on any given day.

First of all: I cannot show intimidation. I walk on no matter what. And walking with a bottom like mine can be tricky. A BB needs moving space. The amount of clearance depends on the behind's side and back expansion and the level of spinal curvature (arched back) a woman sports. But I never show I'm struggling with the comment, the jiggle or both!

The catch about catcalls: staying modest, not becoming stuck up. Especially in a city like New York, it's easy to become used to attention and an ego can expand quickly. Despite the attention, staying attractive inside and out is the key. I hope to never take admirers for granted. Important is a balance between appreciation for the various compliments and a healthy dose of sarcasm to fight off the degrading and intimidating remarks. It's an ongoing challenge.

Another story: when you are with a guy. It can be your friend, your date or even your man. I've had situations where I damn near avoided a fistfight on the street or in a club because of jealousy. It's horrible style if a man tries to almost pluck me off the arm of a date. My man has a right to get upset! I can understand him getting mad over men staring hard or trying to make a move right in front of his eyes. I guess there's no love between guys when it comes to a woman with a big butt.

Then I've had situations where my date got mad at ME for wearing the very jeans he loved so much an hour ago when he picked me up at the house. What am I supposed to do - wear a tent-like dress or baggy jeans like a teenager? I don't dress slutty, but not like an old lady either, just fashionable. My style was probably one of the things he liked about me in the first place, right?

Then there are the days when I almost forget about the alien living on lower lumbar region. That won't last long. Men…and women…and children will shout me out mercilessly. No time to forget.

My booty-loving friend Kamal broke it down like this: There are about 20 women in every town with a waist-to-hip ratio of the mastodon (see chapter 5). Meaning the kind of scary, unreal ass, measuring 50 plus inches around, with a waist of a 26-inch sphere, which I have. According to Kamal this is a phenomenon no one can resist.

But sometimes it's just bothersome if someone makes obvious fun of me. I mean I'm not deaf to the comments and not always in the condition to be comfortable with the stares. Then I might get smart or bitchy where I should just be patient with the on-lookers.

Sometimes it's hilarious how people react to my behind. My friend Donna loves walking the streets with me. She claims it takes the attention off of her. Plus, watching the whole ass-and-awe show as we walk the streets of Manhattan just cracks her up. With virtually all of my male (and a lot of my female) friends, once they've known me for a while, my butt has been the topic of the conversation at least once. As if they want to acknowledge the existence of it and ask some questions at the same time. They treat it like some kind of feature, which has earned its own celebrity and needs discussion. I find it amusing and it gave me a lot of material for this project. For the purpose of this book and DVD I've interviewed some of my friends. They all said they associate me with my trunk. For them it's like my middle name or they include it in a description of me: "Oh, you know my friend? Yeah, the one with the big butt…" For me all of this is funny and strange at the same time. I'm the one that carries this thing around all the time. I've come to terms with it. Now I even like it.

The thing is: I've never really seen it!!! Only with the help of a mirror or seeing it in a photograph can I view it. Even when I crank my neck, I can't see it like everyone else. That sucks! All this commotion about my backyard and I can't see what the fuss is about. Sometimes I look in a mirror and think it's not so bad. I find myself thinking it's not really that large for lack of comparison at the time. Then I see a woman on the street and say, "Wow, she's got a humongous ass." Right away, the friend I'm with will set me straight and say, "Have you ever seen yourself girl? Your ass is BIG!"

Well, no, I've never even seen my own butt!

Booty Talk

Quotes and Anecdotes

"Don't give me a heart attack turning around without prior warning!"
"You know you got it, that's how you get it: A fine behind forever."
"Good Lord, until you got up, I didn't know what you was working with!"
"If J-Lo has ass-insurance, you need it tripled!"
“You can stop traffic with that rear end.”
“God almighty, you’re a thoroughbred!”
“I wanna drink your bathwater, Mami.”
“Miss Puerto Rico ‘The Puerto Rican Queen’ in the house. And she got some ass on her!” Three young women in front of a club in Harlem.
“I wanna wash you from your feet up.”
“That’s its own person!” A surprised Irv Gotti at the MTV VMA.02 together with Ashanti’s tour manager sitting right beside me when I got up with the rest of the audience to applaud TLC.
“I wanna put my whole face in this thing.”
“Baby’s got two backs.”
“That’s some prime real estate there. You can put skyscrapers on that.”
“Slow down son, you don’t see shit like this every day.” A guy uptown to his rushing friend
"C'mon girl, you got my two glazed buns all ready!"
"That's the reason the sun is blazing like crazy: It's competing with your full moon."
"It looks like a 'Hershey's Kiss'."
"Rubbing a butt is supposed to bring good luck. This one could make a man a millionaire.”
[…many, many more…]

The night of the big NY blackout in 2003 where everyone used candles and torches to get around, my friends and I walked by a group of guys and they used their torches to light up my rear end all the way down the block so everyone got a spotlight view of the only thing visible on the street.

I went with friends to a strip club in Mount Vernon called "Sue's Rendezvous." Guys gave me money although I only stood at the bar with my people. I made $13, which is not much really, but a lot for just standing there.

I even get comments from gay guys: "Girl, I don't play that but you have a great ass." (My reply: "Thank you, it's a little big." - Them: "No, it's perfect.")

The Beauty of the Booty – The Pain in the Ass

Real blessed women knew long before about the beauty of their booty. Even though they didn't look like the models in the magazines, they still were and are proud of what their Mama gave 'em!

And rightly so! A generous bottom is a great source of power. It's sensual, attractive and plain feminine. It's a looker: strolling, wiggling, swinging, shaking hips are a physical and mental benefit (mostly over men). Not only can a generous tail push their imagination over the edge, it can also catapult a person into next week with a good hip swing. The phrase "childbearing hips" might ring true. A real advantage is that all of my friends' children like to hang out on my hips. I just put them on there and carry them around. They sit on that little bulk on the side and just cling on like it's second nature. How convenient. In Africa, of course, women have carried children in a similar fashion for centuries. When I visited in Rwanda, I saw women everywhere who carried their children wrapped in a piece of cloth around their bodies directly on top of their hips. The babies and toddlers clung to their mothers all day. Children even took their naps on the backside. This method has benefits for both sides: The kids are comforted by their mommy's touch. Mothers keep their children nearby and have their hands free to get things done.

It must be said that a true plump rump has its own personality. It's a whole other entity you're schlepping around - always - every day of your life. Sometimes it has a mind of its own, popping out of the jeans after taking so long to squeeze into. I've personally cracked about half a dozen gemstone thongs my ass barely pressed into. Fake jewels went flying through the room as I tried to fumble my rhinestone-covered panties back up over my ballooning butt cheeks.

In school having a bod like this is especially uneasy. You're underage and already have a winterwarmer that's bigger than that of most grown women. Kids are brutally honest. Being called names and facing ongoing embarrassment generates a poor self-image. On top of that, there's peer pressure. The popular girls often look like models in teen magazines. So to realize a big tooshie is actually something to be proud of takes a lot of maturity. Which simply means growing up, discovering cheeky buns are an asset and lots of skinny women wish they had such a gift. […]

Packing cheeks ain't easy. The pitfalls of finding clothes or walking down the street in the summertime shouldn't be underestimated. I discuss those issues further in this book and on the DVD.

Big buns are like having your little siblings sticking by your side all the time you love them, but sometimes they drive you crazy.

Booty Call

All right, let's talk about sex:

In her interview my friend Anu says guys automatically think of intercourse when they see a phat ass. She believes breasts rather correlate to foreplay, as opposed to the butt, which is directly linked to sex.

For many men a large behind is the perfect embodiment of their fantasies about anal sex. My ass addicted friend Sidney says it brings out the naughty, nasty side in guys. They think of spanking, squeezing and pleasing it. According to him, if a woman's buns are nicely shaped, hitting that ass from behind is what comes to mind automatically. Just to find out how it feels.

He also says that while men think about sex all the time anyway, a plump rump even further sparks their interest and imagination. All day the booty is compressed in jeans or else and buns-loving guys can't wait to get their hands on it.

Anthony, who loves large bottoms, says in his interview that a big butt's got so much life to it. It can move, wiggle and jiggle once it's let loose and not trapped inside clothes anymore.

My friend Faith, who has a bodacious bottom herself, told me her boyfriend after three years of dating still says things like "Oh my God, I can't believe what you have back there. I can't believe how lucky I am." He is literally ass-whipped over her, still!

The article below was written by Sloan Crosley, a female, evidently from New York.
Anyway, I thought it was rather interesting.


White girls with big asses, man. There goes another one, a J. Crew cardigan riding up atop a buttock so big, so out of place, it makes you wonder if Serena Williams woke up this morning wondering where her ass went. Temperatures are going up, taking hemlines with them, and the trendy white ass is hanging out there like a couple of upside-down Tasty-D scoops. They're taking over this city. They're everywhere I turn: in dressing rooms, in store windows, in that pond with the little boats—anywhere I can look down and see my own reflection. Yes, I'm one of them and it seems strange to admit something so plain, but until recently the subject has been almost completely taboo among the SPF 40 set. If I said even now (in front of a man or woman of any race for that matter) that I think I have a big butt, they encourage me to deny it. "You have a great ass," they say. Which, ahem, isn't the issue in question. And all that protesting, all that mutually exclusive commentary about how big versus how appealing, leads a 5-5 pallid girl to wonder: What is it, exactly, about the ass right now?
On the street, men tell us we've got a "phat ass" and most of us immediately jump to some bad comedy film scene where a blue-haired lady in a Talbot's suit whispers in our ear, "That's how 'they' say it, dear. It's a compliment.' " I hate this woman because (a) in my fantasy she usually smells like turnips and (b) she's a bigot. But she comes to me every time, and believe me this means every damn day. The basic difference between white women getting hit on or hollered at for their butts versus black women getting the same harassment is that these men, I think, are surprised by my ass. On the walk to work, on the subway platform, at a bar—they're surprised all over this town. And it is the surprise that validates their double take. I've seen how black women get looked at and for better or worse their whole body seems to register. Their hair, their breasts, their shoulders . . . a gaze may start at the ass, butt it moves right along. Thus I think the white girl's fascination with a flat ass comes not so much from the desire to have a flat ass (also known as a "flass"), but the desire to shift focus onto something else. With no form of below-the-ab-quator entertainment, eyes become bored, wander to more uni-racially appealing parts like breasts or shoulders or nice arches.

In a shocking turn of events, the major women's magazines are trying to encourage this "cover that thing up" mind-set despite every clothing storefront in the city showing off their half-naked mannequins. Since May, magazines have been loaded with rear-view, waist-down pictures of women, and they all say something like this: Big bottom? Avoid horizontal stripes or patterns that draw attention to your backside. Read: "You're a lard ass, honey. Lay off the 4 a.m. China Fun and go see a movie with that disjointed and meaningless makeup ad starring Julianne Moore and Halle Berry [because they really need the work] for similar messages." And you know what? In every damn photo on every glossy page is a little sliver of exposed pale skin. Of course, if that same skin were darker some intern from the suburbs would get more nasty letters than she could open in a single summer. Those same magazines claim that this fall, the miniskirt will die. It will slit its seams with back issues of Vogue or hurl itself on to the runway, but it will be very dead. Time to cover up. Bring out the pearls and the tweed 'cause Prada's got a brand new bag and it's burlap. But can a whole body part really go out of season? Can it be trendy? According to Ludacris it can. From Blow It Out: "Plus I'm the new phenomenon like white women with ass." White girls showing off their big booties is a novelty and, as such, a rapidly endangered concept. So be warned: If the magazines and lyrics have their way, this may be the last season of the ass.

And OK. On the one cheek, I'm fine with that. I have to admit to being a longtime horizontal stripe-ist. In spite of what I've seen this summer, I'm having a tough time letting go of a lifetime of black pants. I'm still sick of not being able to find a pair of jeans that doesn't either gap at the waist or make me look like a plumper. I'm sick of playing musical hangers with department store bikinis and of my reflection lasting a millisecond too long in a store window. What is that passage from The Book of J.Lo? We may be through with the ass but the ass isn't through with us. My ass has a spine of its own, seeming to move in one block, detached from the swooshing of my legs like it's following me around and if I run really fast I'll lose it.

I've tried that once, incidentally. There was one week a few months ago when three—count them—three, free one-week memberships to gyms fell into my lap/mailbox: New York Sports Club, Reebok Sports Club, and the David Barton Gym. I thought, OK, God wants me to burn some carbs. But it was more than that. This ass, I thought. This ass should not be attached to white chicken legs. This ass is on a foreign-exchange program. This ass is lost. Time to send it home. So I piggybacked my free memberships and worked out every day for nearly a month. I stretched and ran and learned the many aspects of treadmill etiquette. Apparently, it's a sort of female version of the public urinal. Eyes front! No smiling! And no, I don't think I would take the same measures if I were black because the majority of black asses I've seen in my life look like they belong where they are—they're sexy and they fit. Their overarching bootyliciousness is a side-effect of plain old genetics. Yeah, well, I'm white as the day is long, so what about me? Unless we start getting used to the idea that some white girls are simply built like this too, I'm completely subject to the fad. Where's my ass's raison d'être? Do I really only get one summer before it's back to the anti-back?

Say it isn't so. I welcome the omigod-Becky-would-you-look-at-her-Nordic-baby-got-back trend and plan to perpetuate my ass off. Literally. Viva la bone-white booty. I don't particularly feel like shoving it in the back of the closet with my horizontal-striped pants come fall. My ass isn't perfect for someone else's body because it's not on someone else's body. It's time to embrace that. Better yet, it's time to have some else embrace that. Either way, the "phenomenon" is just confirming what we white girls with big asses have known for years. There's always been a secret society of us. At our best we smile at each other on the street like honking Jeeps passing in the night, encouraging and sympathetic and exclusive all at once. At our worst, well—at least my ass isn't as big as hers, right? For this summer in this city at any rate, I've found more of the former. White female butts are on display as never before and they're being checked out by people of every race, sex, and contact prescription. Whether that's inappropriate or violating, whether it's motivated by jealousy or lust, is a different issue for a colder day when we're not all trying to show off and get tan in public. For now, anything that makes New Yorkers grin at each other even on a crowded and sweltering subway platform is OK by me.