Short Story: The Girl with the Big Butt
Short Story: The Girl with the Big Butt
She was fourteen when a classmate blurted out, "Wow, you have such a big butt!" She remembered that day vividly. They were preparing for a math test. She despised math and dreaded the upcoming test. Her anxiety was already overwhelming, and this comment pushed her over the edge. She gasped for air, tears forming in her eyes, but she silently turned away and entered the classroom.
In the years that followed, whenever she left home, she always tried to wear clothes that concealed her prominent bottom. Even though she no longer received direct derogatory comments about her figure, she consistently hid her body. Her best friend was taller than her and also had a substantial behind, which made her own size feel less conspicuous.
Fourteen years after the incident, she got married. She chose a large, hoop-styled wedding dress to cover the part of her body she was most ashamed of. The photos turned out quite well; she looked beautiful and appeared happy. What wonders a well-tailored dress can do! She lamented that it wasn't the eighteenth century; she would've loved to wear those hoop wonders all the time. Surprisingly, it seemed her husband, Paul, wasn't bothered by her prominent butt. He always encouraged her to wear tight skirts and jeans, saying she looked fabulous in them. However, Shirley couldn't shake off that echoing phrase in her head: "Wow, you have such a big butt!" Not even Paul's loving and desirous gaze could silence that voice.
Shirley tried various diets and underwent numerous treatments, but the cellulite persisted, and the stubborn fat simply wouldn't slim down. When the children arrived, the situation worsened.
Breastfeeding didn't help her lose weight, and even when her daughters started to walk and run around, she couldn't fit into her old clothes. In the photos taken during this period, as she scurried after her children from the living room to the kitchen, from the bathroom to the bedroom, she only noticed one thing: how prominent her behind was. Before her twentieth high school reunion, she stood in her wardrobe, trying to squeeze herself into the one dress she felt was worthy of the occasion. Paul stood at the door, watching her futile attempts. When the zipper of the dress finally gave way and tears began to fall from her eyes, her husband embraced her and simply said, "Shirley, your butt isn't big! Believe me, it's perfect just the way it is. And if you don't want to, you don't have to attend your graduation reunion."
Shirley rested her head on his shoulder. Her tears still flowed, but in her husband's arms, life and the size of her behind didn't seem so dramatic anymore. She skipped the class reunion, and that evening, she and Paul watched a movie together, cuddling, just like they used to before the children were born.
The years passed, and her children were now in high school. Their friends often came over. Shirley loved spending time with these teenagers. They were lively and humorous. Sometimes, their enthusiasm and, at other times, their passionate rebelliousness towards the world was too contagious not to smile. Shirley knew that they'd eventually calm down, that their world-changing plans would turn into short and mid-term family and career plans, and she also knew this was as it should be. Nevertheless, she enjoyed the bustling energy in her home, though she despised the photos where her behind always looked so massive.
One day, Paul suggested that they head to the seaside, noting that the last time they were there was on their honeymoon. Instantly, a knot formed in Shirley's stomach. The beach, swimsuits... she could already hear that phrase which, much like Paul, had been her loyal companion for many, many decades: "Wow, you have such a big butt!". She tried every excuse in the book to dissuade Paul from his plan. For a few days, it seemed she had managed to convince him, but then he returned home with two plane tickets and a hotel reservation for Malta. Shirley's heart stopped for a moment. Paul had arranged everything: the kids would stay with their grandparents, and he'd even spoken with her boss. With no more excuses to fall back on, Shirley had to pack.
She had one day to pack and buy a swimsuit.
With a pounding heart, she stepped into the store. She meandered cautiously among the hanging swimsuits, almost as if she wasn't really there to make a purchase. She tried to pick out a piece that would fit her size. The salesgirls were all slender; any of the swimsuits would've looked perfect on them. Shirley had no clue how to find the needle in the haystack – that one swimsuit that wouldn't look horrendous on her, just terrible. One kind girl tried to assist her, but Shirley quickly retreated to the dressing room with a camel-colored and a black one-piece swimsuit.
Both looked awful on her. In them, her behind seemed as vast as the Gobi Desert from an airplane's view. It filled her entire field of vision. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she quickly pulled herself together. She couldn't fathom how she would endure the vacation. She opted for the camel-colored one because, in the black, her sun-deprived white thighs and behind stood out glaringly, making them seem even larger if possible. With a heavy heart, she walked home, trying to avoid glancing at the street posters advertising swimsuits worn by one stunning model after another.
When she got home, she didn’t have much time left. She packed, and before she knew it, they were already at the airport. Paul was radiant! He loved the sea and was thrilled to be on a carefree vacation with his wife after so many years. Throughout the flight, he held Shirley’s hand or occasionally caressed her arm. Shirley was so tense that even the two glasses of wine she consumed during the three-hour flight couldn’t relax her.
Their accommodation was in Valletta, at a lavish five-star hotel. Paul had booked a spacious room with a terrace that offered a breathtaking view of the sea. If Shirley wasn't so preoccupied with worrying about what people would say about her large bottom in a swimsuit the next day, she would have been captivated by the view.
They had a cozy dinner at the hotel's restaurant that evening. Shirley hadn’t indulged in as many shellfish and crabs in years as she did that night. Exhausted, they collapsed into bed. The next morning, Shirley woke up around six. Her anxiety peaked as she looked at the camel-colored swimsuit draped over a chair's backrest. The perfect-bodied top model in a turquoise swimsuit on the magazine cover she bought at the airport seemed to mockingly smile at her. Paul woke up around eight, and Shirley managed to buy some more time by retreating to the bathroom to prepare for the beach: a final hair removal session, sunscreen application, and other rituals. She managed to stretch this until ten. Eventually, though, she had no choice but to squeeze her behind into that treacherous camel-colored swimsuit, tie a large black beach wrap around her hips, and step out of the bathroom. Paul had nearly fallen back asleep while waiting for her. He instantly perked up when he saw her. Shirley was profoundly grateful to have a partner whose eyes still lit up seeing her, even after so many years. She loved Paul more than anything. She even braved the beach for him. Taking a deep breath and letting it out in one go, she said,‘Let's go.’
The next week was spent with Shirley trying to conceal her body at the beach. She strictly applied sunscreen in their room, feeling that no vacationer deserved the sight of her slathering it on at the beach, looking like a beached whale. If they went into the water, she pretended the sand was scalding her feet so she could run and quickly submerge in the sea; coming out, she'd sprint straight to her towel. She truly felt at ease during their intimate candlelit dinners, talking with Paul. Those hours were unforgettable.
Finally, the week ended, and they had to pack. Before departing, they had lunch at a charming little eatery on the beach promenade they had discovered on their third day there. Paul seemed like a different person. He was cheerful and content. Shirley had always envied his laid-back nature and how, apart from the opinions of his loved ones, he rarely cared about what others thought. In this regard, he was the complete opposite of his wife.
When they returned home, Shirley meticulously gathered and tucked away all the photos where her behind was visible into a folder. Their elder daughter jokingly remarked if she'd just sat throughout the entire vacation. While Paul showed off the remaining pictures to his in-laws and friends, the phrase "Wow, you have such a big butt!" flashed through Shirley's mind.
A few weeks later, the photos weren't revisited. They had shown them to everyone they wanted to, and life went back to its usual routine. Shirley resumed wearing long skirts and allowed herself to be photographed less frequently.
On November 15th, while she was in a meeting at work, her phone rang. It was an unknown number. She didn’t answer. Then it rang again; this time, it was her elder daughter. She sent her a text saying she couldn’t talk right now, but her daughter called again. Shirley excused herself from her colleagues, stepped out, and took the call. She barely recognized her daughter’s voice, which was choked with tears as she tried to form words. Shirley struggled to make out what she was saying. After a long effort, she managed to understand from her daughter's frantic speech that Paul had suffered a heart attack and had passed away. Her breath caught in her throat. She was speechless for a few moments but eventually found her voice.
By the time she reached the hospital, all she could do was say goodbye to her husband. The man who had been her love and companion for thirty-one years. She stood there, holding his cold hand, feeling completely numb. About ten minutes later, a nurse appeared at the door and escorted her out. By then, their daughters had also arrived. They took care of the paperwork and then took a taxi home. None of them felt capable of driving in that state. The daughters spent the night with their mother in their old rooms. Before they went to bed, they gave Shirley a sedative. The following weeks found Shirley in a strange daze. It felt as though events were happening to someone else, not her. She went through the motions, managing various tasks, coming and going, but it felt like she was living someone else’s life. The funeral, the wake, the condolences, and the safety net of her worried children kept her from falling apart, but she couldn’t fully recover either. She dreaded the evenings, which she once loved. Those times when she’d wait for Paul to walk through the door and when she could share her day with him over dinner. Now, no one came. She lived on cold soups and ordered Chinese food, which she ate alone in front of the TV. Her daughters had to return to college, leaving her alone in the house.
One evening, after working late at home, she noticed the folder on her laptop, the one with the photos of her behind. With the remnants of the cold Chinese meal still beside her, she clicked on it.
In the first photo, they stood on the stairs leading to the beach. The photo was taken by the male half of a lovely young couple. Paul had insisted they capture the first day when they could finally be by the sea again. Shirley tried to stand sideways as much as possible, hoping her behind would appear less broad in the black wrap. Her gaze now immediately landed on her backside. The wind had lifted the black wrap, and the excess on her behind and thighs gleamed mockingly at the camera. And the all-too-familiar refrain started in her head:
"Wow, you have such a big butt!"
"Wow, you have such a big butt!"
"Wow, you have such a big butt!"
She could hear the voice, but she missed her husband's face, his eyes glowing with zest for life, and his smile, far more than she was concerned about her behind at that moment. She searched for Paul's face in the photo. For minutes, she absorbed the sight, no longer seeing herself, her backside, or her thighs.
There, in the blue glow of her laptop screen, she realized she was the only one who cared about the size of her butt. She saw her husband who, even after thirty-one years, proudly embraced his wife, the woman he adored, during the vacation when they finally made it to the sea. In a profound moment of clarity, she grasped the miraculous love she'd been enveloped in for all those years, realizing that by some divine serendipity, she had truly deserved this unwavering, devoted love, regardless of the size of her bottom.
– Eszter
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