It has recently been drawn to my attention that I have an ass. You’d think this wouldn’t come as a surprise, but for someone who spends a lot of time dealing with the largesse of other body parts, the knowledge that I have a double-wide trailing behind me ALL THE TIME has escaped me until now.
I exaggerate. A little.
While standing in my choir dress waiting to go onstage last night a friend of mine and I started talking about asses. She claimed she didn’t have much of one, and oh woe is her, and then, before you know it hey! somehow, Hilary’s ass is all kinds of involved in this conversation! She turned me around and triumphantly said to anyone who could hear, which was everyone, “Now that – that, is an ass.”
And, to my shock and awe, it was, indeed.
Not to toot my own horn (or trunk, as the case may be) but after it was stared at and complimented by many a choir boy and girl, I decided that, for once, my Italian genes had come through for me, and instead of cursing my wide hips or very Italian nose, I could just get over myself and enjoy my body, which is so bootylicious.