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Thanks a million, Jennifer

Latina learns size doesn’t matter, but appreciation does.

As a child, I physically developed much faster than most of my friends.

Some call this "appreciated genetics." At age 12, I called this a nuisance. I had a large, oversized bosom, small waistline and colossal gluteus maximus.

In grade school, among the petite, flat-chested, and small-fannied girly-girls, I stood out like the color red in a black-and-white movie. Thanks to my larger-than-life behind, the spawns of Satan at school constantly teased me, dubbing me "bubble booty," "thunder buns" and "fatty sack."

If that wasn’t enough, when I was once appointed to the prized position of fourth-grade line leader, the school kids made me shy down from the role, confirming that the caboose should be in the back.

Such nicknames and instances reminded me that I was different.

The boys were another story.

Although they didn’t really call me fat, they called me "whale of a tale," or just plain "fat –s!" I didn’t know who was worse, the girls or the boys.

Later, in junior high, things began to change. Middle-school syndrome kicked in.

Fashion, boys, body image and being popular became more important for pre-teens. As other girls came back from summer vacation, sprouting, catching up to me physically, I felt like I would blend in.

Wrong! As time went by, so did my backside grow.


CAMOUFLAGE TACTICS

I used to envy the acceptable-body-type divas that sported fashionably tight clothing and the latest designer jeans. These girls were never harassed by the boys they considered popular. What a joke! I, on the other hand, could never dress like that: I would have looked like the youngest prostitute to walk the halls of middle school.

The boys at my junior high were very foul after returning from summer vacation. Plain nasty. My admirers were not cute, nice, well-mannered guys following me. I had ugly, trouble-makers who bet on who could target the "bull’s eye" without getting smacked. I was constantly tormented.

To deflect attention, I wore baggy clothes to fend off the lechers. I wore sweaters wrapped around my waist to hide the camel’s hump that attracted so much attention. This was until my mother saw me come home from school one day and chastised me for looking so raggedy. She told me not to wear my sweater like that again.

"Tie it around your shoulders – it looks cuter!" she said.

Just when I realized I was never going to have the perfect, acceptable body type, high school brought a whole different era and thought process. Teens began to change. "Summer heat?" I thought, but suddenly the fad changed from skinny Barbies to thick teens with curves. Full-figured women were in. What changed the minds of young teens over the summer? And guys - jeez, their whole type in girls changed!

Overnight, I became the most sought-after girl in my high school, popular for my oversized….well, you know. The same snooty girls from grade school and junior high began to befriend me, often complimenting my body shape. I thought, "Yeah, right!" The same kids who tortured me in grade school wanted to become my friends? What, did I finally grow into my buttocks? Or were they just envious when they saw the marathon of guys following my rump? I mean, really, Pied Piper didn’t have that many followers.

I, myself, truly disliked the attention, but it was nice to feel wanted and admired for once. I craved wearing the styles that everyone else was wearing, but popular jean brands like Guess and Calvin Klein weren’t made for me, no matter how many butt lifts I did. The only way I could fit my "rumpasaurus rex" was to buy bigger jeans. (Unfortunately, I had so much room in the waistline that a belt didn’t even do me justice.)

ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT

Looking back, I realized that the things that changed minds were the songs, videos and actors who were starting to hit. Pop culture began to glorify the booty. A Seattle-based rapper, Sir Mix A Lot, stirred up the "butt thing" (and controversy) by releasing Baby Got Back. The song had a beat with lots of bass and was great to dance to. Baby Got Back set a trend that it was okay to have a big behind and it was okay to rap about it. Because of him and other popular singers and stars (like J-Lo and her $1,000,000 insured butt), mainstream America began to accept larger-than-life buns.

Today, people still joke about my buns, but at least it’s more out of admiration rather than humiliation. I’ve learned to accept my "apple bottom," "patootie," "junk in my trunk," or any other name given to what I call a piece of me. I have learned to appreciate what I’ve got, as everyone else should, whether it’s a little or a lot.