Not one for too many mementos, I returned from our trip to Australia in April with a good book 'Who Stole my Mojo', Tim Tams, Buderim ginger sauce, blue-gum honey, some Aussie wine and a new word - bootylicious. The instant my sister-in-law used it, I embraced this remarkable word as my own.I have always considered my pear-shape a curse. A size 8 dress fits my shoulders and chest but not my hips. A size 10 works well on the hips but my upper half floats in the dress. I don't need any fingers to count the number of dresses in my wardrobe.
Bootylicious, however, has turned my dilemma into an asset. The T-shirt boasting, "With a butt like this who needs boobs!" hits the mark. Quite right, either way you have cleavage. It's all about perspective.
I succeeded with my New Year's resolution to get my size 10 hips in line with my size 8 top. In a few short months my pants were too large and I had to scale back a size. What I didn't realise, until I bought a few new T-shirts in Cannon Beach, was that my top is now a size 6. So much for that! A pear I am and a pear I will be. Bootylicious has allowed me to embrace my fruit type.
With my Aussie-initiated-Vancouver-perfected tan, a Bosc pear I am. An Anjou or Bartlett pear I am not. I'm a little past young to be green of any shade. Comice, Seckel and Asian pears are too round to qualify. A Red Bartlett I may be should I have cause to blush. Admittedly, Morrie (see Morrie and Alice, August 2009) reminds me I turn Red Bartlett after a glass of wine.
Bootylicious - a remarkable word that has improved my body image, freed me to see the humour in it, and walk with confidence.
