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Queen, the greatest band ever, released Fat Bottomed Girls the year I was born. The actual year I was born! Can you imagine? What vision and foresight.

I didn’t really understand what I had until the late 80’s/early 90’s gave birth to Miami’s very own 2 Live Crew, once again glorifying shapely (and slutty) women. It was then that I realized that I was sitting on a hot piece of real estate. My booty shaking was almost a replica of that of the video models that starred in Pop that Coochie.

Perhaps it was all that dancing that kept me on the slimmer side of the Weight Watchers scale. But, even at my thinnest, my ass was always two sizes ahead in the double digits. And, for a long time, that was okay.

It wasn’t until Sisqo’s Thong Song that things started to take a turn for the worse. Thongs. Sure. I had them in all colors. But a few years into the millenium, I became happily settled, which is code for weight gain. One day, when disrobing to Dirty Vegas, I noticed that my ass had actually eaten my thong.

This wasn’t new, the week prior, my belly actually ate my navel ring. That and the tattoo of the sun strategically located near my pelvis now enveloped my entire vagina.

I spent a small fortune on gym memberships and personal trainers. I joined Weight Watchers and nearly starved myself for a week, only to lose zero pounds at weigh-in. That’s zero with a capital nothing. I had healthy gourmet food delivered to my door, only to end up never wanting to so much as look at a baby carrot again. Nothing I did changed the shape or size of my ass or body for that matter. Nothing.  

But, really, it wasn’t a big deal. I had convinced myself that I had Madonna’s arms. And that, I thought, was all I needed to prove that I was somewhat in shape. Until, well, until the unfortunate misfortune of being illuminated with the wrong lighting, while walking across the dance floor, while wearing a sleeveless dress, while being photographed from the back.

“Is that me?” I thought. “Why does my arm look like the surface of the moon?”

Naturally, I panicked. I quickly decided that I would put myself on some sort of strange regiment. One that would help me lose my Freshman 15, the happily married 20 and the extra 30 from quitting smoking. One that would restore my celestial tattoo and help locate my purple thong – which I loved. 

But, in order for me to do this, I need a song. Just like Fat Bottom Girls predisposed me to voluptuousness, I need a new song to inspire me to put this Snickers bar down and get to the gym.

Like Rocky’s Eye of the Tiger or Space Jam’s I believe I can fly, I need my very own song that plays when I reach the top of the stairs and vomit my tall cafe vanilla frapuccino with whip.

So, after much research, focus group testing and deliberation, I’ve decided on Heavy D & The Boyz’s hip-hop classic, Now that we found love. Among the reasons, Heavy D is clearly, well, heavy. He and his dancers wear saran-wrap to get rid of that water weight, probably to fit into their skinny jeans later that night. And, the lyrics include gems like: 

So what’s it gonna be/Me or the TV  Doesn’t that scream, “hey, get off your butt, your big, excruciatingly large, butt”?

How about: Shake me, Shake me/Baby baby bake me (baked, not fried)

And, my personal favorite line of: (Now) I dig the way you wiggle/You don’t jiggle/Once you jiggle/So hand over your love/Cause it’s heavier

See you at the gym. I’ll be the fat bottom girl working out my arms in the lime-green rain coat.

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