The Dreaded Butt Print . . .

Microfiber couches. Oh how I loathe thee.

The genius who developed this material as a selection for sofas and other furniture designed to be sat on was not fat. Obviously. If they were they never would have condemned big bottomed girls to the horror of seeing just how wide their butts spread out when sitting down.

The extra wideness of my butt span is a reality check in plain view of anyone within five feet.

Quick! My mind says. Pretend to be wiping off some lint and erase the big ass evidence!

Couches aren’t the only culprit. Have you ever flattened a two or three square foot area of grass with your toosh? Make like you’re kicking a bug to cover it up. What about at the gym? Swamp ass central? One set of pull downs and the vinyl seat displays your sweaty derriere markings for the entire workout floor to see. But(t), a stealth knee swipe or two takes care of that . . .

I suppose in the end (pun intended), butt prints are there as a friendly reminder.

STAY OFF THE DAMN COUCH!

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3 thoughts on “The Dreaded Butt Print . . .

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