I Just Want Big Butts

This topic seems to be a recurring theme lately. As the father to daughters and husband of 25 years (and hoping for more), I’m always very careful about how and where I use the terminology, “big butts.” There are so many ways to misconstrue such a phrase. Palaver about “big butts” can easily be twisted into a defamatory insult or misogynistic offense. So first, I want to make it clear that this statement in no way demeans anyone to whom I am related, nor does it pertain to any female, either living or dead. I just want big butts.

It all started with the NFL draft. Despite the misery they’ve brought me, I love my Atlanta Falcons. I used to follow four sports – a team in each. Time and a non-sporting household have whittled that down to one: The Falcons. While I love them, I am at times dubious of the leadership. They seem to get enamored with flashy toys. I am of the old school opinion that a football team is built on the front line.

fridge 1

The more big butts you have, the more you win!

But alas, when the Falcons’ turn to draft came, they found a flashy 190 pound receiver instead of a big defensive lineman. I fear that we will score 100 points every game but give up 101. We don’t have enough big butts.


A couple of weeks after that, we were driving home from Birmingham when I spotted a sign on the highway that said, “BUTTS & RIBS this exit!” It was lunchtime and we had been talking about where we could go. I knew in my heart that this was worlds better than Wendy’s or Arby’s!

I had already moved over to the right lane and turned on my blinker when my motives were questioned.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting off the interstate to eat.”

“Where? We didn’t decide on anything.”

“There was a sign that said, BUTTS & RIBS.”

This set off a whole volley of objections and I batted every one back over the net with one simple retort.

“THE SIGN SAID BUTTS & RIBS! How can we not stop when the sign says, Butts & Ribs?”



I am widely known for my penchant for stopping at any roadside attraction that catches my eye. I can’t help myself – I am just drawn to them like a monkey to a cupcake. Whatever campy, cheesy thing you’ve seen on the highway, I can top it. So can my family… which is why they tried to steer me back into the left lane.

I obliged, sadly muttering to myself, “the sign said butts & ribs.”

Now we’ll never know.


So you see, this big butt thing started trending in my life. It was punctuated the other day as I looked dejectedly into the mirror and realized our annual beach vacation is coming soon. I am recovering from a knee injury that kept me from running. I don’t run to get in marathon shape any longer; those days are gone. I only run so I can hit the buffet with impunity.

But like a moron, while I couldn’t run over Christmas, I still ate like a fat kid. The consequence is 10-15 extra pounds of BIG BUTT that will soon be sunning itself in the sand.

That is one roadside attraction nobody wants to see!


Back off, ladies… He’s taken

Whenever my second grade teacher, Mrs. Kleinstuber wrote on the chalkboard, the loose flesh of her arms flopped around so violently that the children gasped in fear. I started a little gambling circuit and took action on whether she was going to be the first person to be knocked cold by her own arm flab. It never happened, but it would have been monumental.

Also monumental is the day you see your own arm flab flopping when it shouldn’t. Since the past few years haven’t been conducive to maintaining a gym regimen, all of the weights I had lifted revolted and tacked themselves to the back of my arms as very soft tissue. So I started lifting again. The weights are lighter now, but after a couple of months my arms stopped their disgusting jiggle dance. I’ve lost about ten pounds and am getting ready for Speedo weather (although my daughters maintain there is no proper climate for that). Read More