Being Italian means God blesses you in the ass department. He may handicap you with a pushy mom and inordinate amounts of facial hair, but he gives you a nice ass to make up for it. This is how I imagine it all goes down:
God: Hmmmmmm, let me see. Italians. Well, first of all, I’m going to put them in the most beautiful place on Earth. Then I’m going to give them the most delicious food.
Mary, raising an eyebrow: Well that doesn’t seem very fair.
God: Mary, don’t be jealous. You live in heaven. Okay, FINE. I’ll give them Groucho Marx eyebrows, and I’ll make their men aggressively smarmy. Also, I’ll have their mothers run their lives.
Mary: I think you may have gone too far the other way.
God, exasperated: Will a nice backside be sufficient?
Mary: That’s quite enough.
I’m grateful God gave me a good tush. Unfortunately, this poses a huge problem when shopping for jeans—as it does for anyone not a giraffe. Dear God: I’m sick of shopping in the JLo section. All the curvy pants are flares, which are about as fashionable as capris.
So while jeans fit has always been an issue, I still prefer wearing them over leggings (not flattering for the thunder of thighed) or skirts and dresses (require frequent leg shaving). And this is why, in my infinite wisdom, I decided to wear a pair of skinny jeans to the BlogHer conference.
As I smiled and shook hands and schmoozed and handed out cards and awkwardly interjected myself into other people’s conversations, I also tugged and pulled and yanked on my jeans like Chris Farley’s motivational speaker in a van down by the river.
One ass cheek is a wee bit larger than the other, so she takes up more than the allotted space in a skinny jean for a single cheek. This means that the seam that’s supposed to run down the center of my bum actually cuts into the left side. The misaligned ass crack seam causes problems with the inside left leg seam, which inevitably ends up twisting around to the back. To add further insult to injury, the backs of my knees swell up like tennis balls when I’m on my feet for too long, which essentially means I’m exploding out of my sausage casing skinny jeans by the end of the day.
So yeah, I totally looked hot at the BlogHer conference.
I promise you this is not all that I got out of my weekend amongst lady bloggers. I was inspired, humbled, motivated, and I am so so excited to have discovered so many talented voices. But I wouldn’t be The Olive Gal if I didn’t make an ass joke.