It all started with An Ode To My Bum, something that I wind up doing every time I a) shop for clothes and catch an unguarded look at the thing (you’d think that Spanx would make it look better, but they don’t) or b) need something to write about and it’s usually the first thing I see.
And I got feedback. Just so you know, I beta test all my columns and the one you just read made someone actually wet her pants, she was laughing so hard, which translates every time to a successful beta test of a soi-disant humor column.
I got letters, too. They were positive on a 2-1 basis, but the 1s were harsh. I was told that if I couldn’t present exercise in a better light, I should keep my opinions to myself. That I had to STOP! being mean to myself.
Now, I’m nothing if not open to feedback. I read it all, consider the veracity of same, and react.
Usually by writing another column, and this time was no exception. Read it and weep. Beta Tester said it tested positive for Funny.
If you don’t want to click to the AFN website, and while I can’t imagine why that would be the case, you can read both columns after the jump.
****
Posted: Friday, April 17, 2015 12:37 pm | Updated: 9:58 am, Fri May 22, 2015.
In hindsight, I should have been more careful.
I knew the risks, of course. When you’re trying to do something that is so likely to end in tears and recrimination, you should be more cautious.
Hang gliding again? BASE jumping?
No, I was trying on clothes at a popular department store and managed to sight my Spanx-clad hind in a three-way mirror. I’ve got only two words: MY EYES!
This was all the more upsetting because I had gone out of my way for years to avoid seeing this very thing, but I was in a hurry and so I let my guard down along with my pants, and there it was, in all its lumpy, cottage-cheesy, misshapen glory, if “glory” is the kind of word you’d apply to something that looks just like Hagrid’s dog in the Harry Potter films.
I’ll wait while you Google that.
Now I’ll wait while you think about what you just saw.
Maybe just a minute more while you try to unsee what you just saw.
And now you know why I completely lost my composure in the department store dressing room. It was like finally getting a sighting of Bigfoot and then realizing that you’re seeing yourself in a mirror.
So I did what any red-blooded woman would do when she realizes that her derriere is so big it’s starting to generate its own gravity, and not in a fun, Kim Kardashian kind of way: I would commence with the eating right and exercising right that very minute.
The “eating right” thing was easy: lean protein, leafy greens, and forget I ever heard the word “sugar.”
The exercising … well, let’s just put it this way: if you’re a big fan of sweating, you don’t wind up having a seizure in a dressing room when you see your butt in the mirror. A gym was out of the question, as none of them are appropriately zoned to contain something the size of my posterior. I can’t fit anything in my garage that’s bigger than a breadbox, and I’m not supposed to be eating bread, so a home treadmill was out.
So I decided that I would try what used to be called an aerobics video, but now set to a catchy, Brazilian beat.
Thus, the search began for a video on the Internet that didn’t feature a man young enough to be my son lecturing me on the finer points of pelvic thrusts. Once again, we’ll pause so you can try to unsee that.
Mission accomplished, I locked the bedroom door lest I psychologically scar my husband, teenaged sons, and basset hound and commenced with the catchy Brazilian beat.
And I immediately flashed back 20 years ago: I was at work, racing for my ringing office phone, and about nine months pregnant. As I thundered down the hall my boss called out, “Don’t run, Elizabeth. It shakes the building so.”
Today, we’d call that bullying. Then, it was just the truth. Truth be told, the catchy Brazilian beat was knocking plaster off the ceiling below me.
The French like to say that at a certain age, a woman must decide between her face, and well, for lack of a better word, her hindsight.
I think my hindsight is about a size 20/20.
• Ahwatukee Foothills resident Elizabeth Evans can be reached at elizabethann40@hotmail.com.
*********************
Posted: Saturday, May 23, 2015 9:54 am
You’ll recall that last time we talked, I was recovering from the unexpected sight of my rear end in a department store dressing room mirror. In my shock, some unpleasant things were said. In fact, it’s been pointed out that I have maligned my fundament, so to speak, and that our last column was less than kind to my hind.
I’ve had a chance to reflect on the input, and I have to say, Ahwatukee Foothillians, I think I was, in fact, cruel and demeaning to my derriere.
So here now, our retraction:
WHEREAS in April 2015, Mom, Interrupted (Respondent) did in fact submit a written piece to be published in the Ahwatukee Foothills News.
Respondent did, in fact, directly imply that her rear end (Plaintiff) was so big (HOW BIG IS IT? [Respondent regrets that even now she cannot restrain herself, apparently]) it was affecting gravity and related tides. While it is true that Respondent once nearly knocked over a Porta Potty as she struggled into a pair of Spanx, Respondent did not, in fact, mention that she still may be testing positive for a dark chocolate M&M habit, a fact that has done nothing but add to the gravitational pull of Plaintiff.
Respondent also did not, in said article, admit to decades of (let’s call a couch potato a “couch potato”) sloth and preference for reading, Internet surfing, and binge-watching “Parks & Recreation” over exertion, sweat, and cardio.
Respondent regrets the omission.
Plaintiff maintains that Respondent is sitting, as it were, on a lifetime of poor choices around diet and exercise, and that Plaintiff cannot influence these decisions and as such is an unwilling victim of Respondent’s same poor choices and Plaintiff would respectfully request that Respondent get a grip before neither one of them can fit in the car any more.
Respondent is aware and is taking remedial action even as we type, as Respondent has no desire to buy a bigger car.
Plaintiff responds that Respondent is sitting on Plaintiff even as we type, and that Respondent’s idea of “remedial action” is laughable, even for a so-called “humor column.”
Respondent would like to respectfully add that she is, in fact, grateful for the mere existence of Plaintiff, if for no other reason than Respondent’s pants would fall down if Plaintiff weren’t there holding up the fort, metaphorically, saving Respondent many hours of shame and humiliation.
Respondent further adds that she appreciates the feedback. Respondent has never wanted anything but the best for Plaintiff and understands that their goals are mutual and their fates are inextricably linked. In this version of the Sisterhood of the Traveling Plus-Sized Pants, Respondent is excruciatingly aware that she and Plaintiff are handcuffed together for eternity.
In short, Respondent officially regrets any pain caused by the last publication and extends a full apology to Plaintiff. Respondent will refrain from distributing any activity, vocalizations, or publications that imply, or cause the reader to infer, that Respondent is anything but delighted and appreciative of her gluteus maximus.
Respondent’s triceps, however, are still fair game. I mean really: can anyone say “underarm dingle dangle?”
• Ahwatukee Foothills resident Elizabeth Evans can be reached at elizabethann40@hotmail.com.
Mom, Interrupted 