Brazil's Primary Export: Agony

Thankfully, mercifully and luckily I inherited most of my genetic traits from my mother, but I did get one lovely trait from my dear old dad: a flat ass.  (I debated including a picture of my butt here, but contrary to some strongly held beliefs, I don't want to send my mother to an early grave.  Happy Early Mother's Day 2011, Mom).

I am not really a butt person.  My sister Annie brags a lot about how great her butt is and chastises me for my own flat rump. Personally, the butt is the last thing I notice in a person, right behind choice of socks and lack of boogers in nostrils, but I know the booty is an important aspect of sexy for a lot of people so I try not to judge.  Don't get me wrong, I appreciate a good NFL huddle as much as the next lady, but I'll take a nice pair of thighs over a well-developed tush any day of the week.

A few months ago, I was complaining about how it is impossible for me to buy jeans due to my flat butt, thick waist and medium thighs.  One of my cousins piped up, "Oh, I used to have a flat butt too!  It turned out that I didn't really- I just had a fat back."  Ouchhh.  Point taken, anonymous relative.  It was time for me to do some lunges and squats and whatever the heck else develops butt muscles.  (Know that if you are giggling at all the sexual innuendos you can make from this entry that I am REALLY holding back here.  My inner twelve-year-old boy is yucking it up, but my mother does read this so be nice).

My friend Stacy manipulated me invited me to try her new work-out DVD system, the Brazil Butt Lift.  It's a system of ass exercises developed by this man.

That's Leandro Carvalho, who is known as the Brazilian Butt Master.  (I'll pause while you snicker.  Don't feel bad).  Leandro promises to help me lift, firm and shape the perfect behind, just as long as I do his system of seven or eight DVDs several times a week.  No problem.  I have nothing but time on my hands and flab on my butt.  So Friday night, Stacy and I popped the DVD in, extremely motivated to soon be able to pick up pennies off the street with our newly-developed butt muscles.

The first problem was that although the DVD is recorded in English, we couldn't get the track dubbed over with Spanish to stop playing.   There is nothing more motivating than exercising to a Brazilian man in dubbed over Spanish with English subtitles.  "We will develop your buttocks!  That is your boom boom.  Get ready to shake your boom boom into shape, yes?"  I laughed at cute little Leandro.  I laughed right up until that jerk started making me exercise.

We did ten minutes.  TEN MINUTES.  I can spend ten minutes doing basically anything, but the evil Butt Master kicked my flat ass.  We bounced around, huffing and puffing as Leandro reminded us that this was just a warm-up.  I think Leandro might be from Hell.  His smile looks suspiciously satanic to me.  Don't dismiss my opinion either- I had twenty years of Catholic education and I know a demon when I see one.  I ended up collapsing on the couch and limping around all weekend, cursing Leandro, Brazil, Stacy, my flat butt and anything else that caught my attention.  My thighs ached and my calves screeched out in pain.  I was not a happy camper.

The very worst part?  After ten minutes of this exercise system, my boom boom has not changed a bit.  I woke up on Saturday morning and stood up, looked behind me expecting a Brazilian butt and saw my old flat droopy behind.  False advertising!  If ten minutes of warm-up doesn't make my butt look like you could bounce quarters off of it, I don't know what else will.  My plans of a muscley butt lay next to me on the couch watching Glee reruns.  There's absolutely nothing I can do.

Unfortunately, I (stupidly) told Stacy I would try out the Butt Blaster again.  I am going to have my head examined first, but if that goes well, I'll lace up my shoes and start booty building soon.  If I don't end up having the world's most titillating tush by the end of this week, Mr. Brazilian Butt Master is going to hear from my team of attorneys.  Either that or I'm calling the Vatican and scheduling him an exorcism.