As 2006 has drawn to a close, it seemed fitting that I should also bring to a close the legend of ButtFest ‘06. Besides being fitting, I knew that my readers (both of you) have been on the edge of your seats awaiting the outcome of the t-shirt drama. (You have been, right?)
When we last tuned in, I had paid a whole dollar at the Goodwill for a Cabbage Patch doll whose rump appeared to be the proper shape and size to create the perfect butt print—a butt print suitable for a t-shirt transfer. It is with heavy heart that I report, said Cabbage Patch buns just weren’t up to snuff.
After removing the baby’s clothes (and his legs,) smearing his little bum with paint and cradling the paper around it in order to get a print of the entire anatomy, it ended up looking less like a butt print and more like a Rorschach valentine. The little guy just couldn’t (or wouldn’t!) make it work for me. I call into question his work ethic.
Undaunted, I refused to give up the quest for a perfect buttocks reproduction. I searched my mind. It didn’t take long. I harkened back to my days of kindergarten art. Having no potatoes on hand, I tried sculpting an apple. A dismal failure. My crack was too wide and my buns too prominent. The print resembled a sci-fi landscape.
But an orange! What about an orange?! Wouldn’t the seamed sections of a peeled orange make a wonderfully butt-like design if painted and stamped? One would think so. One would be wrong. It sort of looked like . . . a painted and stamped peeled orange.
Running out of produce and ideas, I decided to ask for help. I turned to the only person in the house who has the kind of artistic talent I needed. I turned to my son-in-law to be.
"Ummmm, excuse me? FT? Do you think you could draw a butt print for me?" was the request at 1:00 a.m., two days before Christmas. He didn’t even flinch. Since becoming part of our family, FT has learned to accept many things. Evidently, my ‘special-ness’ is one of them. Quietly sitting with paper and pencil, he deftly sketched a fine specimen.
After playing around with the size and format of my son-in-law’s backside portrayal (and doing some judicious editing to keep the hiney from looking too hairy--I wouldn’t want to be distasteful about this after all) I finally achieved the look I was going for. The commemorative ButtFest ’06 t-shirts were all I ever hoped they would be.
J was clearly elated to be included in our exclusive society. Beautiful laughed just as hard reading the shirt as we had laughed all summer long. I could not have asked for a better reception to my gifts. Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves, my girls wear their butts on their chests. And proudly, at that.