Note to Little Miss Hot Pants


Note to Little Miss Hot Pants
Note to Little Miss Hot Pants
WRITER | Nikki Igbo
ILLUSTRATOR | Catlin Scroggie
ear Young Lady Who Appears to
Be Suffering from Heat in Both a
Literal and Figurative Sense,
are barely covered by your shorts. I
know why you felt comfortable enough
wearing that get-up to school.
I’m not mad at you. I want to put my
arm around your shoulders and give
you a friendly squeeze. The truth is
that I see a bit of my younger self in
you. While some of our fellow classmates may whisper behind upheld
palms or shake their heads in disapproval, I know exactly where you’re
coming from. I know why you chose
today’s fashion ensemble despite the
cool temperatures predicted in today‘s
forecast. I know why your butt cheeks
You were a late bloomer in high
school, weren’t you? While other
teenage girls had cleavage, hips,
boyfriends and hickies you were a
card-carrying member of the itty bitty
you-know-what committee. Your face
was pretty. Your hair was long and
luxurious. But from the neck down,
it wasn’t difficult to mistake you for a
boy. You were a gangly collection of
sharp angles and flat surfaces both
coming and going. You hid your lack of
feminine wiles in unnecessary layers
of baggy clothes.
With each passing year of your adolescence, you willed your body to take a
curvier shape. You imagined yourself
in tight little black dresses, tight little
turtleneck sweaters, tight little skinny
jeans with zippers at the ankles. You,
however, lacked the appropriate form
to fit into any of those things. Still you
hoped. You did your bust-increasing
exercises in the bathroom mirror. You
made sure to sleep on your back or
your side at night. You did step aerobics to round out your backside. You
even tried to trick your mom into ordering you Suzanne Somer’s Butt Master (LBX) while it was on sale with the
ThighMaster Gold for a low, low price
of $29.99. But you saw no results.
You resigned yourself to being a bookworm nerd with no social life.
A curious thing happened the summer
just before your senior year of high
school. As you drove from state to
state in the backseat of your parents’
charcoal gray Hyundai Sonata touring
college after college, you wore no bra.
It was too hot. In June there was barely
anything to lift anyway. In August, after
visiting Oklahoma, Louisiana, Alabama, Georgia, Ohio, New York, Illinois
and then crossing back to California,
you changed. You emerged from the
car a size zero with C cups.
You became a babe.
You started to feel more confident
wearing your scoop neck t-shirts
and your tailored striped slacks with
the suspenders. You took your hardearned part time job money and you
began to build your new wardrobe. You
bought all the tight, little things you
could find.
So, here you are today in our college
cafeteria. You have arrived at womanhood and no one else knows or understands what a trying journey it has
been. You know that it is rather risqué
to dress this way while attending your
classes but you don’t care. You are a
special force and your body is your ally.
You don’t have to get permission from
your parents to wear anything like your
buxom friends did in high school. You
are a young adult with carte blanche to
be as naked in public as you’d like.
Go ahead. Take advantage of it. Do
it now while you still can. While you
can still eat anything you want and
not have to spend a sweaty second in
anyone’s gym. Do it before that next
big summer of change. Before that
summer of eating a steady diet of
Jack-in-a-Box big cheeseburgers with
that hot guy with the long curly hair.
You will spend hours upon hours with
this guy in the apartment he shares
with his cousin smoking pot, having
sex, playing RPG games on Xbox and
making trips to the drive-through.
Your body will continue to get curvier
in a good way before starting to get
rounder in a very bad way. Your boobs
will get heavier. Your backside will
get rounder. You will like this. No, you
will love this. But then cellulite will
begin to march its way up the back of
your thighs. You will start to develop
muffin-top. You think a larger size in
pants will solve the problem. You won’t
mind being a size four. But then the
muffin-top will keep expanding and
you will find yourself with a belly. No
longer washboard abs. You’ll have a
full-fledged pooch. You’ll be slower
and less aerodynamic.
You will begin to make more modest
decisions in your apparel. You’ll give
up midriff tops. You’ll hate low-rise
jeans. You will appreciate tailored
blazers and dresses with high waistlines. You will begin to realize the
importance of earrings, necklaces and
bracelets. You’ll restyle, cut, experiment with and recut your hair. You’ll do
just about anything to draw attention
away from your expanding midsection.
You will find yourself searching online
for diet plans and exercise techniques.
You’ll buy those stupid magazines at
the supermarket checkout that promise to give you flat abs in 30 days. They
won’t. You’ll practice portion control.
Then you’ll find a recipe for pumpkin
cheesecake and you will binge eat.
You’ll feel guilty and return to your diet
and P90x fitness regimen but eventually you will get used to the fact that
you may end up being a size 10 just
like your mom.
My dear, one day you will be sitting in
your college cafeteria as a graduate
student pursuing an MFA in writing.
You will see some undergrad prancing about the space wearing something completely inappropriate for
the environment. You won’t judge her.
You’ll smile. You’ll remember the folly
of your youth and you’ll say a prayer
for that girl. You’ll wish her well in her
journey of self-discovery. You’ll hope
that she appreciates her own mind
and her beautiful body. You’ll defend
her wardrobe choice against fellow
classmates whispering behind upheld
palms. Then you’ll write her a letter.