It was a typical Saturday night. My husband and I had a few couples at the house and all the kids played together while we enjoyed some adult time. We had an awesome home cooked dinner and then we moved our party into the living room around a nice fire. We sipped on some red wine and let our pack of toddlers play on the floor between us. All was well until little Aiden fell on the floor and bumped his head on the table. He opened his mouth to cry and nothing came out at first….then…a full fledged scream. Awwwww…we all felt bad for the little guy. He was just learning to walk and lost his footing. Fell like a ton of bricks. Betty, his caring mother, bent over to pick him up still holding her glass of wine. Then…instantly.. Betty became a victim of the small crowd that gathered at my house that night.
We are all mature adults until someone shows a little ass crack. It peeked out of the top of her pants at first and then it was a full moon staring us in the face. It was white. Very white. We tried not to look but the more you tried to avoid it, the more obvious it became. I blame it all on the fashion gods who thought low-rise and skinny jeans were a good idea??? Her thong and tattoo of a butterfly caught the eye of all the men in the room. They tipped their glasses of wine to each other as they celebrated their free peep show. My jaw dropped and I rolled my eyes at all those married men. Perverts. I felt embarrassed for her. I thought about pulling her shirt down over her exposed ass crack but could not figure out how to help her discretely. I wanted to do something but sadly…I did nothing. I think her husband saw it too but it didn’t seem to bother him. He was more interested in Aiden’s injury. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed our boo-boo bunny for his head. Then I encouraged Betty to get off of her knees and sit on the couch with Aiden. She did so and I breathed a sigh of relief. For me and for her. Phew.
All the men carried on the conversation as if they didn’t see Betty’s hot pink thongs and butterfly tattoo but they would drop hints subtly throughout the night. Poor Betty had no idea that she was their entertainment. “Is that window “cracked” open? I feel a draft.” one husband would say. It was hard not to laugh but the timing would have really been awkward if I explained it to Betty now. The night went on like that for a few more hours and just when we were going to let the subject go….Betty tripped on a rug and clumsily spilled her red wine. I didn’t care about the wine spill but I feared another peep show for the men. It made me feel awkward. She quickly grabbed a napkin and immediately dropped to her knees to clean up the mess. With every scrub her shirt came up a little higher and her jeans fell a little lower. [thinking] “Hello Mr. butterfly! We meet again.” This time it was worse. I attempted to clue her in this time. “Betty? I didn’t know you had a tattoo?” Most women could translate this as “Uh oh. My tattoo is showing. That means my ass crack must be showing. Let me stand up… or pull my pants up or…pull my shirt down.” But Betty had her buzz on and was happy to discuss her butterfly. “Yes. I got that it Vegas. It’s losing its color though.” All the men interrupted. “No…no.. the color looks fine.” followed by baritone laughter. Buzzing Betty said “What are you guys laughing about? I’m sure you have seen tattoos before. What? A mom can’t have a tattoo? Let me tell you. This tattoo was easier than delivering my son. I pushed him out for over 2 hours and the doctor had to cut me down “there” to get him out.” [thinking] “How did the conversation get here? Wooooooh…settle down Betty. A little TMI..if you know what I mean?” Suddenly, all the men got quiet and crinkled their noses at the delivery room visual. They dispersed like roaches to escape the image of the episiotomy. One went to the bathroom and one went to the kitchen and poured more wine. I think this was the moment when Betty’s husband realized that it was probably time for Betty to get home. They gathered their belongings and headed out. This was the first night that she got get official nickname “Butt Crack Betty”!
About a month passed and I saw Betty outside with her son. The warm weather had finally arrived and she was taking him for a walk in the stroller. We were chatting and without warning Aiden threw a toy that he was playing with onto the street. She bent over to get it for him and wouldn’t you know it….Butt Crack Betty Strikes AGAIN! We were alone so I told her “Betty? Your butterfly is trying to get away from your thong again.” She giggled and pulled her shirt down. I teased her a little bit. “What is up with you mooning me all the time Betty?” She just brushed it off. I didn’t really care and I certainly didn’t care if she wasn’t bothered by it. Whatever. It just seemed like these little peep shows were getting more and more frequent as time passed. I eventually stopped warning her and just said “nice butterfly” every time it happened. It was our little joke. I saw butt crack at the mailbox, butt crack on playdates, butt crack when she did yard work. One day it dawned on me. “I think Betty might enjoy showing butt crack.” This happened so many times thereafter that I actually programmed her into my cell phone as “Butt Crack Betty.”
There has been a butt crack epidemic nationwide since that Saturday night when Betty introduced us to her butterfly. I see women showing butt crack at the food court at the mall, at soccer games, in the grocery store, at PTA meetings…it’s everywhere. I cringe anytime a mom bends over to pick up anything. This blog is dedicated to you Betty. Your butterfly is a legend. You were ahead of your time. Who would have ever guessed?
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