My ass is nothing to write home about, unless you're in the habit of writing home about average things. There's nothing wrong with it, but it's not remarkable enough to be one of the three body parts of mine that people tend to notice most -- my boobs, my clubbed thumbs, and my beauty mark. (I guess that's actually five body parts.)
I like to think that, when someone approaches me out of physical attraction, they're drawn to the whole package. Lots of people have specific body parts that get them going, though -- I like strong, lean arms, for example -- and that's totally OK. Except, as far as I know, there aren't any men who are super-into toe-thumbs or well-placed facial moles, and a lot of guys don't even consider themselves breast men anymore. It seems everyone's an ass man these days.
So, how's a lady ("lady") like me supposed to lure a man in to get to know my beautiful mind? Butt-lifting jeans -- duh.
Now, I'm not talking about those jeans with butt padding. I have enough "material" to work with. I just want to give it a perkier-looking shape; I want the bottom half of my body to look like a question mark from the side, as if it's asking if wearing butt-lifting jeans makes me a bad feminist.
So I took a look at the surprisingly wide selection -- about 45 styles -- of butt-lifting jeans on HourglassAngel.com. Brightly colored jeans with sparkly embellishments, of which they have many, aren't really my style, so I went with a pair that seemed stylish and subtle. (Well, as subtle as butt-lifting jeans can be.)
According to the description, "The bottom lifting jeans use special lifting technology and construction," including a balance of 78% cotton, 20% polyester and 2% elastane, which they claim will have a control-top effect on the tummy (they're pretty high-waisted), lift your butt (obviously), and "celebrate your overall shape." Prepare the unfurl-y party horn thingies!
To see if these jeans really do elevate/celebrate my ass, I decided to take pictures of my butt in a pair of regular-ass jeans I wear all the time and in the Up Co jeans. Actually, I decided to ask Rachel to take pictures of my butt. Outside. In my neighborhood.
Here's my butt in the regular jeans. Do with it what you will, cruel Internet.
And here's my butt in the Up Co jeans.
I gotta say, I think there's some lifting going on -- or at least the illusion of it. It was definitely apparent to a guy down the block who whistled at me while we were taking the pictures. When we ignored him, he whistled a second time, and Rachel and I simultaneously turned to him and said, "No," and he walked away. Note to self: Some ass men are assholes.
The most obvious difference is the lack of back pockets, which has long been known to make butts appear a bit more ample. (The front pockets are also sewn shut, which was weird.)
Less obvious, unless you're the one wearing them, is how much the back of the thigh is compressed. You can really feel it squeezing you in, probably to create a bigger disparity between the circumference of your thighs and that of your butt meat.
Despite the firmness of the fabric, these jeans are actually surprisingly comfortable for something that's supposed to smush you into a different shape. They fit me more flatteringly than some of my non-manipulative pairs of jeans, and that never hurts when it comes to feeling confident.
Have you ever tried butt-lifting jeans? Would you? Are you attracted to a certain body part? Where have all the breast men gone? (Are you singing that last sentence to the tune of Paula Cole's "Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?" like I am?)