Booty PopPosted: October 7, 2011 Filed under: Uncategorized 6 Comments
I went on a date last night and packed something extra along for the ride. As I was getting dressed I saw a pair of padded underwear in my drawer. That’s weird to have, I totally agree.
Last winter I was in Puerto Rico with some friends and kept seeing commercials for Booty Pop, a pair of underwear that operate like a padded bra on your butt. “Go from flat to fab in a pop”, they advertised. Wanna look like J Lo? No problem, Booty Pop. We got a real kick out of the commercials, me especially because although I like my body I’ve always wanted a little extra junk in the trunk. Don’t judge me.
Yearning to give me everything I want, my loving friends ordered me a pair for my birthday as a joke. Or at least I think it was a joke…
Flash forward, I’m getting ready for my date last night and spot the Booty Pop that’s been hidden away for six months. I slid them on underneath a pair of black stretchy jeans and examined in the mirror. “Oh, yes,” I thought nodding and doing some ga-dunk-a-dunk moves. Then, “Oh no,” it was inappropriate and weird and I couldn’t possibly leave the house in them…. Or could I?
I arrived at the charming West Village bar of my date, Eric’s, choice propping myself up on the barstool, I was an extra inch or two higher than normal. Eric was cute; although he lives in Jersey City he had a very Brooklyn look to him. Beard, glasses, flannel. I was digging it.
Eric’s messages interested me because he managed to be thoughtful, intellectual, and funny all at once. That’s a tough feat for an OKCupid message, but he did it. In person, he started out with the common nerves that most of us carry on an OKCupid date… most of us, except those of us with Booty Pop who have a boost of ego and ass.
When I sensed his shyness I went into overdrive, asking him questions, asking myself questions, answering for both of us. I realized I was coming off a little crazy but I couldn’t stop the train. I started telling him about my Chinese animal sign. I don’t know anything about the Chinese zodiac except that I’m a rabbit and it happens to be year of the rabbit. We googled and found out Eric is a dog. I asked which dog Eric felt he could most relate to, he settled on a hound dog.
According to the Chinese zodiac rabbits and dogs are not compatible, but I had hope for the hound dog and me. When we got up to leave, I started to feel self-conscience about my butt. Could he tell I was wearing Booty Pop? Had they shifted when I was sitting? Does it look like I’m wearing a diaper? As we walked down the block I did a bit of a sideways sashay to avoid my butt being in his view.
Despite my weirdness, Eric asked for my number and said he wanted to see me again. When we exchanged digits I started putting him in my phone as “Eric OKCupid”. Everyone I meet gets a label next to their name, I’m horrible at names, it’s a memory thing. Jessica Summer Camp, Lisa Work, Brad Don’t Pick Up, etc… Eric saw his label and requested I change it to “Eric Hound Dog”. Fair enough.
We did a goodbye hug on the corner, then I crossed the street. I thought he was taking a turn and I think he must have thought I was jumping into a cab but instead we both continued walking down the block on opposite sides of the street. I did a stiff wave and we both laughed at how awkward it was. He turned on the next corner and yelled, “Bye — OKCupid”.
I yelled back, “Bye Robert OKCupid,” then we both froze. This was not Robert this was Eric. Oy vey. I got mixed up, I’m horrible at names! I was preoccupied with concealing my tush and the whole name saving game got me mixed up.
He smiled from down the block and yelled back, “It’s Eric, Eric Hound Dog”, then he kept walking.
“I’m sorry,” I screamed, “That was embarrassing, I know your name, I swear!” I was on a busy corner of Bleecker Street, an old man looked at me and gave a disapproving head shake. I’m not sure if it was from eavesdropping on my flub or noticing the uneven pads in my pants. Either way I walked the rest of the way home cringing at my blunder and cursing my goddamn Booty Pop.
next time your down in South FL I would like to buy you a drink…I just read the CNN article firstname.lastname@example.org
next time you’re in a wig i’d like to buy you a drink as well. i just saw your face in my bootypop.
[…] in and he got my ear. As I crossed the street he yelled, “Nice ass!” I wasn’t wearing my Booty Pop. For a brief moment I slipped up and felt flattered… then quickly resumed my grossed out stance. […]
OK…..wouldn’t this be the female version of the lawyer who never traveled and wasn’t 6’2″? I’m just sayin! 🙂
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[…] make me feel small, it’s my own body complex. No more false advertising. I’ve surrendered my Booty Pop and accepted my God-given behind (most of the time), men need to accept their height and move […]