I've Found An Ass

And I'm SO excited. I think.

I have spent a lifetime with a, er, FLAT derriere. I did okay in the boob department, but I was absent the day great a$$es were handed out. There just hasn't been much call in the booty area. So I have broad shoulders to hold up the boobs, and not much below that.

The fashion mags do not have a section for "V-Shape". Trying to find a good bathing suit is a lost cause. At 40, I finally figured out that my broad shoulders and C-cups allowed me to carry more weight than most girls without it being obvious. Whoop-de-freakin-do. (Actually, at 40 +, I've learned to appreciate that particular fact. Why the hell does is take 25 years to get decent body image?)

I've spent the last six weeks being tortured by Helga. I was prepared for some changes in my body shape thanks to Helga, but I wasn't prepared for reality.

Reality. I've lost three and 1/2 pounds of fat. Pure fat. The white icky stuff you cut off your steak or drain out of the chicken or burger. The same stuff that makes cheesecake so yummy.

Reality. I've gained a pound of muscle. The part of the cow you actually eat.

Reality. My measurements, in actual dimension, remain much the same.

Reality. My fat measurements (the Special K pinch, for those who remember) have gone down significantly.

Reality. I'm built (per Helga) like an athlete. I carry a lot of muscle. By working out, I'm going to get bigger. And tighter. And less flabby. And I will weigh more, in scale weight.

So now my Lucky Jeans don't fit again. But it's not because I'm gaining weight, per se. It's because I now have a tush, where there was no tushy before. And I can see this.

Ass muscles. Who knew?

J-Lo eat your heart out. J-Hu is here!