My Ass Belongs in Cuba

My Ass Belongs in Cuba

by Claudette in Cuba

Forty-eight hours in Havana was the heaven for which I have always yearned. Aside from the fact that I saw not one McDonald’s, Pizza Hut or Jack-in-the-you-name-it in the streets of Havana, there was another reason that Cuba was a delicious treat for me: I was surrounded by asses like mine.

Plump, round and three-dimensional on every plane of existence.

Ah, the gluteus maximus muscle. It’s the one responsible for extending your hip and externally rotating your thigh. It’s the one you use when you walk up a flight of stairs, stand up from a squat, or maneuver a sidekick in kickboxing. In our everyday life, it gets a lot of use. Mine has always been so “well-used” that I couldn’t imagine how I’d ever get a small one, even if I stood still the rest of my life. Indeed, this baby has always had back.

In Havana, they were everywhere…on the woman selling papaya at the market, on the lass behind the hotel counter, and even on the stewardess whose skirt I thought might burst. The form-fitting clothes they wore revealed to me and to the world that a voluptuous rear is something to celebrate. I was truly amazed. Here, stop for a moment and take a look at the picture I’ve attached. Look closely. What is different about these mannequins?

(Pause)

THEY HAVE ASSES!

Have you ever seen a mannequin with such an ass? I sure haven’t.

Even though our pop music heroine, J. Lo, has popularized the big backside, I still haven’t seen many changes in our culture at large. For instance, it’s still hard to be a woman with big coconuts and get pants to fit. In order to get most women’s jeans up over my hips, I often have to go several sizes too large for my waist. Hip huggers are better; though we have all seen the thong-like proof of how easy it is for them not to fit properly. It’s a struggle no matter how you slice it.

Even when I was a kid, I was forced to buy pants other than what the girls with tiny tushes wore. Check this out; I actually used to wear jeans from the husky boys’ section. Eeks! No young girl in America is going to be happy about wearing a husky anything, never mind something from the boys’ department.

Yet in Cuba, for two whole days, my ass was the norm. What liberation!

Oddly, we are programmed to fear Cuba for so many reasons, but I walked away from the Island in nothing short of cultural awe. I think this is the real revolution that Che, Castro and our other comrades from the Cuban Revolutionary Party have been talking about for decades.

Power to the Posterior! Viva la Revolution!