Mexico just can’t handle America’s massive rear end

If you have only been a tourist in Mexico and have never lived here, you may have never noticed this. Mexico is a country of little butts and its entire infrastructure is designed for their small, and perky rear-ends. In know this for a fact because I am a professional writer trained to note and record such things.

Mexico

Americans, of course, have all of the fat-butt genes God handed out at creation. There is no use in denying this, so don’t try. You will not win the argument. Americans have the fattest keisters on the planet and all the proof you need is to come to Mexico, stay for about a month, and try to get along “well” in normal daily affairs.

We have to be assisted into the back seat of Mexican cabs because our fannies are so large that we cannot get in and out of the backseats without the fire department coming with the Jaws of Life. When we try riding the buses all we can get into the seat is one butt-cheek with the other hanging over the side looking and flopping about like a swollen blob-monster. It also becomes plaintively apparent when we try to get in and out of some of the doors installed in these buildings—houses included. They were all built for hobbits, which, by the way, are real and all live here in Guanajuato. Mexico.

My wife and I notice this too when we try going out to eat. I swear to God that every restaurant in the town is designed for someone no more than 4.5 feet tall. This includes the entrances and the seating arrangements. I can get one side of my fundament onto the chair cushion and one kneecap under the table. The other leg has to stay extended out in to the aisle causing all manner of havoc with people trying to jump over this telephone-pole-sized leg. They act horrified since they have never seen something so huge.

In addition, the toilets: I think I have some permanent damage, or something, from trying to sit on these toilet seats designed for someone with a backside the size of a hand puppet. I have actually broken many of them—I am deadly serious—all around town in the public facilities. I try never to frequent the same public facility twice so as not to be recognized. I am sure there is a warrant out for my buttock crimes.

It is nightmarish!

Not only does this town’s infrastructure cater to little-butted people but also to people who are the size of Santa’s Elves. I know I have sustained multiple concussions from forgetting that the doors in all these homes and buildings are built with the “little folks” in mind. I have rearranged my scalp, not purposely mind you, on many occasions from scraping it on the doors. We had an apartment here where the back door was less than two feet wide. I swear I am not making this up. I could not enter nor exit that back door without contorting myself into an inhuman and ungodly shape. I simple could not walk squarely through that door.

I cannot describe to you what it is like to be a giant in a land of little hobbits.

I had to travel eight hours to a resort town that had a Wal-Mart that catered to big-butted King Kongs just to buy a pair of underwear. I do not for one nanosecond believe that I would be able to find underwear in Central Mexico to fit me. There isn’t the demand to accommodate fat butts.

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