This is a story about the size of my ass. No joke. If you have delicate sensibilities and the notion of discussing what, in what many civilized cultures is considered a taboo, sexualized part of the human anatomy, my human anatomy to be exact, please surf away, for I wouldn’t want to be responsible for disturbing your Victorian-era principles.

Now onward to the mountain with my wayward, tartly disciples.

First, a little backstory –

My grandmother on my father’s side was raised by a mammy on a Virginia plantation that was once slave-owning. This is not meant to be an incendiary revelation. It is merely historical fact. As such, the likelihood that, not all that far back in my family line, a little color got mixed in is on the high side. And while the translucent color of our skin, especially mine, could conceivably qualify my family as the whitest people on the planet, there are a few curves here and there that would force a committee to call for further testing.

You see, one of my little brothers and I have what is generally referred to as a bubble-butt. This is a gift that we received from our father, whose butt at 62-years-old still salutes like a 20-year-old military man’s. The three of us can’t turn to the side when we’re near each other, because there is too much chance that we’ll bounce off of each other and end up on the floor.

I believe this story sums it up best. Recently, when my brother was at my dad’s house, he was lying on the floor and my stepmother asked my dad if my brother had something stuffed in the back of his pants, to which my father replied, “No, that’s just his butt.”

How does this have anything at all to do with your grandmother being the direct spawn of slave-owning southern racists, you may ask. Well, not to invite your flames and pitchforks upon myself, the fact is thus -

What my father, brother and I have are the kind of asses that are not commonly spotted on white folk. These are the kind of asses generally associated with far curvier segments of the population. Or as Shawna put it just the other day, “Honey, you are way white, but your ass is Puerto Rican.” I giggled like a school girl who got kissed on the cheek at recess when she said this, because, as we all know, when it comes to ass, Puerto Ricans’ are top-notch.

But anyway, in a small woodshed on a plantation in Virginia in the 1800s our family received a color injection that today is detectable only in the form of booty.

Now, here is my dilemma-

Recently, I have had a major increase in lower back pain. I sleep on my back and when the pain is at its worst, I can barely stand to lay that way since my back comes nowhere near the bed due to my ample supply of ass-fat.

So my question for you kind people is thus…

Can the ass itself be the cause of my back pain? And, if so, what can I do about it?

And please don’t say to get on a stepper. Been there, tried that. It gets harder, not smaller. Then, when I lay down, it’s such a sturdy base, I’m like a top. You can grab me by the feet and give me a spin for hours of fun.