Butt Seriously

From The Book of J.Lo: We may be through with the ass but the ass isn't through with us

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.


How could I leave this behind?
photo: Drew Tillman
How could I leave this behind?

Sloane Crosley is a writer living in New York. She likes to keep her ass out of trouble as much as possible.

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