Does This Tailor Make My Ass Look Big?

"Too much beeg heer," said the tailor, making parenthesis-like motions around my hips. "Very smoll heer." He added, gesturing to my waist. He tsk-tsked and tugged on the hem at the back of the dress.

"Too much beeg. Make too much problems for me." This was round-two of verbal abuse and adjustments to a simple, satin, red, strapless dress I'd hired Abdulhaq, the tailor, to make.

My friend Mai brought me to his tiny shop, littered with stray threads, scraps of fabric and a mound of yellowing magazines and catalogues with random pages torn out of them. I brought my fabric and a few sketches of the dress I imagined. Back and forth, in English and Arabic, the three of us argued over the number of seams and whether or not there would be enough material to even make a dress. I said it could be as short as it needed to be and we finally settled on a design.

"Anyting you not happy; I am heer. I make feex." He handed me a business card as I made my exit and said to call to see if the dress was ready.

"Don't you need to know my name - for when I call?" I asked. We had covered the standard questions: Where are you from? When did you move to Kuwait? Why did you move to Kuwait? How do you like Obama as president? Etc. etc. But, we skipped over the name-exchange and hand-shake part... Straight to commenting on the size of my bodacious backside. I guess lady's tailors can't be an overly formal bunch. No need for names even. Apparently, I am Abdulhaq's only American customer and one of only 3 White women to ever visit his shop.

The first fitting session of "too much beeg" was sort of funny. I laughed. This happens a lot; people think I'm smaller, lighter, weaker than I actually am. The first two are sort of flattering and the last one doesn't bother me either - I know how to wear clothes at compliment and I prefer to be underestimated. However, after the second fitting session when the dress was still rolling up into creases at the small of my back, just above the "pa-pow!" as my husband calls it, the "beeg" comments started hit a nerve. I mean really, man... Why do you think I went to a tailor for a dress? I know my long distance runner proportions of yesteryear have, well, shifted some. Now, please make me a dress that fits, kay?

I tell this story much better in person. I've perfected my Arabenglish accent and the hand gestures make it so much funnier. As I relayed the tale to friends, most did, actually, LOL at my BOB (laugh out loud at my big ol' booty). This was usually followed by a "Yeah, but it's not that big." I have to agree; we're in Kuwait, the land of Kuwaiti women. Speaking generally, Arab women aren't known for their lithe figures and tight, athletic tummies. Have you ever seen a real belly dancing show? It ain't like Shakira. Maybe it's just that Caucasians have the reputation of a somewhat "uneventful" figure...? The answer is unclear.

So, I ask every man's most-dreaded question: Does this make my ass look big?

My man's response: "Yes. A bit. Don't change a thing."

Well, there you have it, Ladies; big is in the eye of the butt-holder. Here's to breaking the mold.