But don ’ t be thus flying to judge. I myself have gotten extra aid in that department .
My trinidadian beget was tired of hearing me constantly complain about being plagued with the no-ass syndrome .
then to make me feel good, she came dwelling with an unusual leverage a few years ago.
“ Shara, I have something for you ! ” she announced .
As I excitedly ripped open the shopping bag she brought from a local Flatbush storehouse, my eyes grew in astonishment. It was a pair of bootleg underwear with two big pads on the back, along with side hep coverage to give the magic trick of equal soundbox symmetry. I couldn ’ t believe something like this exist !
After trying on a few clothing options with my newly acquired big loot, I was hooked. Simply slipping them on over my underwear, I wore those pads everywhere for three months directly — to work, the hair salon, the grocery store memory, even to the corner launderette .
then something tragic happened that ended my life as a sexy video recording vixen ( well, at least that ’ s how I saw myself ) .
One Saturday night I went to a club in Manhattan with my girlfriend. I confidently walked to the front — skipping all the women who hadn ’ metric ton learned my little secret, because girls with bad butts don ’ t have to wait on line .
We were quickly usher inside. Guys shouted, “ Damn, massachusetts ! ” and “ Can you save me a dance ? ” as I sashayed my way through a metallic detector. Thinking nothing of it, I danced to the rap beat and walked veracious in .
then it happened. .. I had wholly forgotten about the female security guard who had to pat down women for weapons !
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I broke into a perspiration as I slowly raised my hands and spread my arms and legs to be searched .
After three squeezes, her chew dropped as she looked up at me in talk confusion and asked, “ What is this ? ”
not able to think of a justifiable answer, I barely told her the truth. “ I am wearing butt pads. Please do not say anything. ”
She rolled her eyes and waved me through. As I disgracefully walked away, I turned to see her telling a colleague about my secret. As they looked at me and laughed, three more employees joined their conversation .
After that night, I never wore target pads again .
My girlfriend asked, “ What took her so farseeing ? Why was she feeling you up like that ? ” I lied and said, “ Girl, she tripping. She said I was cunning and asked me for my call number. ”
When I got family, I told my ma what happened, thinking she would give me comfort as only a love mother could .
“ I told you, you got besides damn comfortable with that thing, ” she said, rolling on the shock with boisterous laughter, only to get up and retell the story to my sister over the call .
After that night, I never wore target pads again .