When I was a very small child, my mother bought a Bert Jones jersey. For those of you who don’t know, Bert Jones was the starting quarter back for the Baltimore Colts back in the late 70’s and early 80’s. My dad laughed, asked what she was going to do with it. My mom said I’m going to wear it and I will never forget the day she did.
Her simple outfit was finished off with a pair of black form fitting Sergios and some tennis shoes and we were out the door for some Saturday shopping. We didn’t get far before I noticed many of the men we were coming in contact with had something to say. It wasn’t shrieks and cat calls, but more subdued. Cars stopped where they weren’t supposed to so we could cross the street. Men were breaking their necks to be the first one to open the door for us. They all smiled weird smiles and looked at her a little too long for my liking. One guy offered to buy me ice cream, another offered dinner. When she would decline and step past them I would look back. They were watching us walk away. Strange.
She said it was the jersey and I had no reason to disagree. I may have been five or six. What mother said was what it was. However, when we got home and I recounted the odd day to my father he responded with a little huff in his voice.
“It wasn’t that damn jersey. Don’t nobody care about Bert Jones. It was those pants she got on.”
After my mother explained as best she could what my father was talking about, I understood completely and that was my first experience with what Yvonne Stickney calls “the power of the booty.”
Why am I bringing this up? Well, because today is Dizzy Gillespie’s birthday. I could write a piece about his awesome career and his contribution to the development of Bee Bop and Afro-Cuban jazz fusion, but you all already know about that. Besides, the first thing I think about when I hear Dizzy’s name is those pouched out cheeks. So that’s what I have for you in honor of Dizzy (R.I.P.), a little randomness about the power of pouched out cheeks. Enjoy.
For the longest black women were a little chafed over corn rows becoming chic after the movie 10 hit. We had been wearing them since the slave ships but they weren’t cool until Bo Derek jogged down the beach with a set in her head. Then a few generations down the line, white couples started producing off spring with big butts on a regular basis and the issue reared its ugly little head again. Maybe it’s the growth hormone in the chicken. Who knows? One thing you have to admit is white women have started packing heavy in the posterior. Look at the bright side, at least now that it’s cool we can find bottoms that fit us.
Mos Def – “Ms. Fat Booty”
There was a time when your only option in developing the gluts was a billion squats a day. Now you can tell your sadistic trainer to go to hell and order ass on the internet (no craigs list). As a matter of fact, you don’t even have to go that far. You can get your bionic woman on at the local flea market or beauty supply store these days. I didn’t know until recently that you could buy your nails, hair and your ass in the same store, but you can and it’s safer and cheaper than going under the knife. Plus there aren’t as many horror stories. Except that one from I’m Gonna Get You Sucka. Shivers.
Wreckx-in-Effect – “Rump Shaker”
I remember when women felt like you shouldn’t ever see the light of day if you had a big butt. Like you should be sent to the mines or locked in the basement as if being blessed in the rear was some mutant form of elephantitis. Big butt jokes were supposed to smash egos and companies sold millions of dollars worth of random ish to women who wanted to cover, hide, camouflage or just plain get rid of their booty. No longer my friends. Instead of selling something to cover your assets they now sell everything with your assets. Tennis shoes, liquor companies, clothing companies.. everybody wants a big butt instead of a smile in their ads now.
LL Cool J – “Big Ole Butt”
I always wonder when I see some of these medically aided bums what they are going to look like in 40 years. We have already seen what the first wave of breast implants look like after a lifetime of jiggling and well… it’s not cute. At what point does even the most jaded of ass aficionados look at a young lady and say ahhh.. that’s too much. I guess it hasn’t happened yet because the measurements are getting wackier and wackier. Good luck with lugging all of that around when you’re 60 ladies.
Benzino feat. Fab and G-Dep – “Bootee Remix”
So there you have it folks, some random booty revelations from someone who has spent many a day trying to cover it all up. I ended up shaped exactly like my mother and it’s only been recently that I have embraced it for better or for worse. Now if only I could find that jersey. Maybe I can cash in those dinner and ice cream invitations.
Happy Birthday Dizzy.
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