It seems strange to start something with a behind, but sometimes things fall into your lap(top.) I saw the picture. I didn’t ask to see the picture, or even want to see the picture, but there it was The one she predicted would “break the internet.” And it wasn’t horrible, prurient, pornographic, or shocking. It didn’t strike me as sexy, either. The only impression I took away was that it was fake. It wasn’t human. It makes me wonder what all the fuss is about.
That, ladies and gentlemen, is a fake tushie. I’ve seen plenty, probably more than my fair share. In Pampers and Depends, in various hospitals, locker rooms, and fitting rooms. Fat ones, flat ones, flabby ones, bony ones, young ones and old ones. Real butts are made of muscle, skin, bone, lymph and blood vessels, water, and fat, in varying proportions. That’s it. That’s all there is to work with when building a real butt.
Real butts, fit, athletic butts, with their higher proportion of muscle, are sculpted. They have inward curves and outward curves and planes and angles and attachment points to the bones underneath. You can see the physics–the engineering that makes them work, propelling their people forward, moving the legs and hips and torso to which they are attached.
Real butts, with a higher proportion of fat (like some close to me,) tend to be more irregular, roundish, maybe a little doughy, maybe a little droopy, maybe a little dimply. They wiggle and jiggle and move (sometimes in ways we wish they wouldn’t,) and tend to visit the neighboring parts – thighs, especially. If they grew from being little bums to being big bums in a rapid sort of time-frame, they might be be a little stripey, too. Of course, they’re working the same way as the fit ones (though not for as long or as fast.) They just keep their engineering less visible, more…insulated.
Both kinds might have freckles, or wrinkles or scars, or <gasp> even (the horror–dare we say it?) Hair. But, all the real ones have this in common: They’re a work of art. They are, as are the rest of the bodies they’re attached to, and the people who inhabit them, “wonderfully made.”
I don’t know a single thing about the person in front of all that behind, other than a name I’ve seen on the magazine covers in the checkout lines, and this is not a criticism of the person. But this image looks like a Barbie Doll got stung on the butt by a bee. And then got dipped in melted Crisco. This is criticism of the poor “artistic” representation of the image of that behind. Whoever the “artist” was, whether surgeon or digital engineer, is doing their subject a disservice.
It’s sad to me that the person inside the front of that behind feels the need, or even the desire, to have her image manipulated in order to know she’s already the beautiful handiwork of the Artist.