The Thing About Midwestern Sexy

About 95% of the time, I love being Midwestern Sexy. In fact, I sort of view it as my duty to maintain a generous body weight. It’s like I’m a walking reminder to the aerobically obsessed size twos of the Greater DC Metro area that yes, it is alright to eat that leftover candy corn and a sleeve of Oreos for dinner. Also, the fringe benefits of being the Fat Girl are spectacular. Not only can I eat when and what I want with no raised eyebrows, but ass size mandates I automatically get shotgun, I can successfully sue McDonald’s, and it opens up the entire horizon of telling Fat Girl Jokes. Only blonds, the Polish and in some cases, those with one testicle, have their own joke category. And there are other upsides. I’ve developed a quick wit and have stellar self-confidence. I float better than I did in my thinner days. And lacking General Skinny Girl Hotness, I know that when a guy pays attention to me, it’s truly because he likes me and not my Fuckability Factor. Well, it may also be for my generous boobies, but whatevs. I’ll take that.

Still, there is one drawback to being overweight: chub rub. That’s when all the squishy bits/rolls chafe together and cause uncomfortable friction. As I’m on the smaller side of the Midwestern Sexy scale, my thighs are my sole chub rub location. To be honest, I had the problem even when I was thin athletic less generously proportioned. But it’s worse now. Instead of concentrated rubbing in the upper thigh area, I now fear friction fire from hip to knee. Some people get rashes and have sweat problems from chub rub, but not me. I just have enough abrasion that over time, it wears out my clothes. If I don’t carefully monitor the insides of my pants, the fabric wears out, holes form and I’m unintentionally channeling Britney Spears. Not ideal.

My favorite jeans have been in chub rub peril for awhile. The inside thigh area has progressively become more more thin. The denim was so worn, I could almost see light through the fabric. In an effort to save the best-jeans-ever from an evil chub rub fate, I’d engaged in limited wearing for the last several months. After all, these jeans were perfectly broken in, flattering, essentially irreplaceable.  I didn’t want to lose them.

But I was stupid and wore them this weekend. Lazy Sunday automatically means sweatshirt and the world’s most comfy pair of jeans. It was instinctive to reach for them and to spend the day wearing what was essentially a denim cocoon of love. But about 4ish, in a particularly gassy moment, I was executed the rare fart/sit-down-Indian-style-on-the-couch maneuver. That’s then the jeans died. There was this ripping sound that outlasted anything coming from inside me. Before I could get up and bend to inspect my crotch, before I could feel the different outside air hit my thighs, I just knew: my jeans were so chub rubbed that I had just fartted them open.

Me (bent over, checking out the carnage): No! No! Please, please, not the best jeans ever!

eCrush (who was also sitting on the couch during the incident and was now busting a gut): Um, did you just break through denim? With a fart? Because that was impressive. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before. This is one for the history books.

Me (bent over, glaring at him from between my thighs): SHUT. UP.

And that’s when the pants ripped again. Humiliation? Complete.


13 Responses to “The Thing About Midwestern Sexy”

  1. restaurantrefugee Says:

    Are you sure it’s not Thursday?

  2. Stella Says:

    Well at least I wasn’t the only one to witness your gastric prowess this weekend…

  3. Herb Says:

    yeah really I was reading this and hoping it was Thursday. Whaaat? It’s Monday?

  4. kjohnsonesq Says:

    RR: Personal humiliation is not limited by the days of the week.

    Stella: You got the preview. The show was unparalleled.

    Herb: Don’t we all wish it was Thursday?

  5. LiLu Says:

    This is freaking HILARIOUS.

    TMI everyday! Woot!

  6. Gilahi Says:

    Actually, being southern and a former Baptist, I can think of at least two more groups of people that have their own joke category.

  7. freckledk Says:

    Luckily, generous thighs are often accompanied by a generous bosom. Chub rub is a small price to pay for a glorious chestal region.

  8. kjohnsonesq Says:

    LiLu: My life is TMI.

    Gilahi: You know you’re a redneck if…

    Freckled: And mine is glorious indeed.

  9. J.M. Tewkesbury Says:

    Well, if that’s midwestern sexy, bring it on! Except for the WMD flatulence, that is. (Although, I’m not beneath a good fart, so to speak…)

    Too bad about the jeans, though. I know what you’re talking about. I went to put on a pair of my most comfortablest, favoritest jeans to wear to a certain happy hour, only to discover they had a hole in a certain place that would make me BFF with the likes of Paris and Lindsay. (The only difference: I actually wear underwear!)

  10. pithycomments Says:

    As someone who lost a pair of beloved jeans to the awesome jiggle that is my Latina Thunder Thighs, I feel your pain. Nothing’s worse than looking down and seeing your inner thighs escaping out of your jeans like an pastry bag that went boom. Especially when you were wearing said jeans in public when they went to the great denim bar in the sky.

  11. Jocelyn Says:

    I could’ve written this post word for word (except the unfortunate flatulence)! I am still in mourning for the pair of black/gray jeans from Target that I chub rubbed to death last year. *sniff*

  12. suz Says:

    It could be worse. At least you’re not developing bed sores.

    I totally feel you on the jeans thing!

  13. Ruby Cantu Says:

    I know this is an old post but I was redirected through a tag. Too funny, funnier than my own chub rub story.

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