My Beautiful Wickedness


Why is that guy singing about his donkey?
March 3, 2008, 10:53 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Aunt B. sometimes writes things exactly at the right time. I think she’s right — humor and love are the keys to the kingdom on this subject.

Tonight, Kid and I were playing Monopoly on her bed listening to the only country music station in this part of NY. Inevitably, Trace Adkin’s Badonkadonk song came on. This always necessitates everyone getting off the bed and acting the fool. She’s tall and thin, built like a dancer; I’m fat and I’ve got a big butt. There was much booty-shaking going on, and she galloped around pretending to be a bow-legged cowboy with a lasso (you’ll see why in a minute). The song goes off and we’re back on the bed (me a little winded) and she says “why is that guy singing about his donkey?” After I had finished laughing myself weak, I explained the song’s intent.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’S SINGING ABOUT SOME GIRL’S BUTT??????!!!!! That’s HILARIOUS!”

You see, it must never have occurred to her to think one way or another about her butt. Or anyone else’s butt. Farts, yes. Farts make her giggle. Burps too. (She’s 9 years old, after all.) But butts are something to be wiped and forgot about. You shake your butt when you dance because it looks funny and it feels good. But worry about butts because someone else will be looking at it? Not a concept she’d grasped until tonight. And she thought that was the funniest thing she had ever heard.

No body image issues here, y’all.

She eats healthily without nudging, including having a cookie once in a while and enjoying an ice cream cone if it’s offered. She dances about twenty hours a week; she climbs any tree that she can hoist herself into. She likes to snowball fight. We don’t watch a lot of TV and we make fun of commercials as a family sport (why is it that Americans’ houses stink so much? No wonder that medication make you want to move your bathtub outdoors…) — but the TV doesn’t go on unless one of the adults is there to watch with her. She reads Harry Potter-ish books, full of witty brave smart girls. She’s just a regular old kid.

Did I play a role in that? Maybe I did. I hope I am having a positive effect.
I am, it must be said, fairly comfortable with who and what I am out of maternal necessity.
I don’t fret about food. I cook what I like and I salt what I eat. I exercise when I can because I like to and it helps me get over frustrating events in my life more quickly. She’s seen me bigger and smaller and in between. I have a scale but I don’t use it much; that was intentional and a departure that happened right around the time that she was born. I spent thirty years always denying or counting or puking or bingeing…and it finally got to where I just couldn’t do it any more. There’s some things that you just don’t want to pass along.

The best gift I can give her is to teach her how to know, love, and be happy with herself. If that means that she laughs at Trace Adkins, I figure he’s man enough to take it.

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