The night I set my ass on fire

So I have told this story lot, and people have always told me its funny.
Hopefully you agree.

It all started in and around the 2005 area, when I was with my first husband, Farm Boy.

This was pre-chubby Liz, around the same time I was introduced to big farmer breakfasts, butter, and  real cream.
They don't call it a farmers breakfast for nothing; He really did eat a huge breakfast after he came in from milking all those cows, and being the good little housewife I was, I made sure to sample most of what I cooked.

Well all that cooking and rich food started to catch up to me, and the weight started to pack itself in its usual hiding spots.
While I was okay with a little extra junk in my trunk, it came with a high price.

Cellulite.

I had avoided the bumpy ass of my older female counterparts for years, not by eating healthy or some shit like that, but I used to work out, and I was an elliptical maniac.

I also used to rub coffee grinds on my ass in hopes of doing some preventive work, sort of like keeping garlic around just in case of vampires.
Bonus on that was my ass smelled like a latte, which was a perk when I dated the guy who was Starbucks obsessed for a few weeks in '04.

I was just out of the shower this one night, and I reached around to spread some body lotion on my butt, when I spotted this evil creeping up my backside.

FB was sitting in bed watching TV, and he bolted up when I let out my best warrior yell (very Braveheart), like somehow if I yelled at my ass, the cellulite invaders would run back to the fresh hell from whence they came.

FB-What is the matter with you? did you hurt yourself?

L- NO! Would you look at this!!??

FB-What am I looking at exactly?

L-Obviously my ass! Why didn't you tell me you could park a fucking tractor on it?

FB-Honestly Liz its fine, you've just put on a bit of weight, looks good on you. 

L- Have you lost your goddamn damn mind or just your vision? Do you not see that I somehow got a Braille novel all over my ass in the last 6 months? 

FB- Don't get all crazy, I think your ass looks like a plump little orange, its adorable.

At this point I must have blacked out, because when I woke up, FB was doubled over laughing, trying to catch his breath and was accusing me of having a mean right jab.

It was all fun and games as I became affectionately known as OJ in my house.

(which is kind of appropriate considering by the end of my marriage I wanted to stab him repeatedly.
Yes I know that joke was kind of in poor taste but rest assured I wouldn't have..........gotten caught that is.)

But he meant it as Orange Junk. Clever huh?
Sorry to say that was one of the more clever things he ever actually muttered in the whole time I knew him.

This went on for about a month, and one weekend he was going away on this Tae kwon do getaway thingy and I thought I would do something about this OJ issue.

Now some people would likely try to eat better or drink more water or some shit to get rid of the cellulite, but as you will find out, I hate waiting for ANYTHING.

I try to be patient, I really do, but I never succeed.
Ask my mom.
I used to unwrap my Christmas presents every single year until she finally gave up. Now she just gives it to me to wrap and then act surprised on Christmas morning.

Its the surprise I hate.
I hate having to form a reaction to things as they come up unexpectedly.
Which seems a bit counter intuitive since I am the most impatient person known to man, but if you know me at all you know that I am constantly visualizing how to react to things so I am not caught unawares.
That's why I am so quick to give a witty comment, I've been silently practicing in my head for years, waiting for the right time to bust it out.

Anyways...I hate waiting.

So while FB was gone, I went to the local beauty section of the Zellers (miss that place) to check out their cellulite creams.

A bevy of jars beckoned me to let them touch my bum, but nothing said the magic words...fast acting.
Plus I am a bit of a cheapskate and there was no way I was paying 20 bucks for ass cream, magic or not.

Almost having given up, I stopped at the end of the aisle where they have those super inexpensive foil packets of face masks, foot scrubs and the like.
If I couldn't shake the OJ moniker, maybe I could just play up another feature, like my face or something.

I found a nice mud mask, and low and behold, second shelf down, was a little packet of cellulite remover. Huzzah!!
(pretty sure that's what it was called, not Huzzah, but just cellulite remover, although that would be a great name for cellulite remover come to think of it. Oddly enough the package had a face on it, not an ass, which seems a bit off but whatever)

The package promised a gentle warming action, and the visible reduction of cellulite in just 15 minutes, plus it was only $3.50!!
I was completely sold and set off to transform my citrus rump into a juicy J-Lo type creation.
I had high hopes for this $3.50 investment.

The house we lived in was a tiny little thing in the middle of nowhere so I wasn't exactly worried to have the curtains open no matter what I was doing. Sorta miss that.

After getting off the phone with FB, and assuring him that I was fine and had the doors locked and the gun out etc etc, I whipped my pants off and put on a grey cotton thong. Sounds like the beginning of a penthouse forum letter, but less sexy, kinda boring.

The directions on the package specifically said to be careful applying it around your lady bits, and I was pretty sure I had no cellulite there (Thank Jebus), so I wanted to keep the meat curtains good and tucked in.

I opened the pouch and was aghast to find this miracle ass fixer was, in fact, the color of neon oranges.
So not only did my ass look like an orange in texture, I was going to slather this crap all over it to complete the look in its entirely. Too bad I had just missed Halloween the week before, instant costume.

I had a little laugh about it, considered taking a picture to show FB, and quickly dismissed the idea.
He would have never let that picture die, and the OJ name really would stick forever.

I dumped the whole thing in my hands and began slinging it all over my backside and thighs, before I realized I should have taken just a bit out at a time instead of the whole thing at once, I had way too much leftover.

Remember when I said I was a cheapskate?
Well I sure as hell wasn't gonna let any of that shit go down the drain, so I started applying it in other places that may or may not have even been able to show cellulite.
Prevention,I thought, clever girl.

So the concoction went all over my legs, my love handles, I put a bit on my newly minted Bingo wings and on the little Buddha belly I had just sprouted.

So in case I haven't painted you enough of a visual picture, I was almost naked, in just a bra and a grey thong, coated almost from head to toe in a neon orange paste that was beginning to tingle a little.

Unable to sit, I started walking around the house, puttering around like a slutty carrot.
The cream was slowly warming up, and I started the timer about 5 minutes after I had finished applying it all.
If I could erase the bumps in 15 mins, surely 20 would be much more effective and I could keep the little bastards at bay for longer,right?

It was getting kinda toasty, sort of like a warm orange blanket, which was funny because it was November and I was nearly naked and I didn't even have the heat on very high in the house.
My ass was gonna look so good, I was a genius and FB would have to worship me and my perfect rear.

Then like all things in my life, shit got a bit crazy
.
This stuff went from warm and toasty to what the fuck in about 30 seconds, and it felt like someone had lit me on fire.
I started to walk around the house a little faster, in hopes of creating a small breeze to help with the burning sensations all over my body.
The walk soon turned into a jog, and then a full fledged run around the upper level of my little house.
I think I was trying to out run the skin fire I had subjected myself to, but to be honest it wasn't my best idea.

The movement of my newly acquired flab agitated the cream and exposed new areas to the air.
Fire loves air. And friction. Lots of both when a half naked chubby girl is running circles in her house cussing a blue streak.
Because I had put some on my hangy arm flaps, I had to get air flow up there, so I laced my fingers on top of my head and got a breeze going by flapping my arms in a demented version of the chicken dance.

Again, a chubby pale as milk girl, grey thong, old beige bra, hands on her head, neon orange cream over 65% of her body, and running around her house screaming expletives directed at her ass.

GET OFF ME YOU BUMPY JERKS!!
FUCK THIS SUCKS!
I HATE YOU GIANT ASS!
I WILL DEFEAT YOU!
IT BUUUUUURRRRRNNNNSSSS!!!!

Now, most people stop me here and ask why I didn't just go wash it off right then.
My answer is always the same.
I am stubborn and I hate my cellulite.
I was not letting my ass win this battle. It already took the battle of cute sweatpants and designer jeans fitting ever again, I was not going to fucking concede this war.

So I continued to run and jump (so dumb...) and curse and clench my fists until the stupid timer finally fucking dings.
I had, in the heat of the moment (ha ha ha) forgotten that I had left the cream on at least an extra 5 minutes, but I am sure the deer in the front yard really enjoyed those extra 5 minutes of my torture.
Sick fucks.

Because I had put so much of this shit on me, and it hurt so bad, I wanted to get it off as fast as I humanly could.
So quickly and carefully I stripped down (still mindful of the giblets not making contact with this acidic crap)
and hopped into the shower.

Now had I been of my right mind, I would have thought this through, or even, oh I don't know....read the instructions on the package that expressly forbade showering this stuff off.
But I was not in my right mind, oh no, I was dying a burning death and I needed to be clean ASAP.
I turned the water on and started to try and take the cream off.

Seems the extra 5 minutes had turned it from ass cream to cement and now I had to scrub my scorched flesh to try to remove it.
My loofah looked like I had murdered a pumpkin by the time I soaped my whole body up (wait for it)
and went to rinse off, just like regular shower.

Let me tell you about water sluicing off a body...it always finds the path of least resistance.

I had inadvertently covered myself with a cellulite remover-soap mixture and it was finding every.single. nook and cranny to get down to the drain and escape forever. Right along with my dignity.

The stuff on my arms coated my tits, and made my nips feel like they were candle wicks.
The stuff on my love handles bypassed the Tramp stamp and slid lovingly into my ass crack and beyond.
Only to meet up the the frontal waterfall from me stupidly putting the stuff on my gut.

All the prep work I had undertook to keep my lady garden safe was gone in an instant, and my whole under carriage was dipped in pepper spray. (which was the active ingredient btw)

I haven't ever had an STD, but if we could do this to kids(and not go to jail,) I guarantee they would wear condoms for the rest of their life.
Like a scared straight program for your junk.

I had to get it all off of me, there was no turning back, but the cussing soon turned to weeping and bargaining with my abused body.
I swore I would never look at another piece of bacon again as long as the burning stopped.

When I finally emerged, with mild chemical burns on my mud flaps and half my body, I was given one last slap in the face by the discount ass cream.

Remember how I said it was neon orange?
Yeah so a side effect apparently was that it dyed my fucking flesh orange.
For like 3 days.
Plenty of time for FB to come home and laugh at me and my orange body.

I have since learned to embrace my cellulite and chub, and have sworn off ass cream for good.