How do you feel about your bottom? Too big, too small, too bony, too droopy? Maybe you’re fond of it. Perhaps you haven’t thought about it much at all, and it’s there purely as something to sit on.
Personally, I’ve never been that keen on mine. A classic pear shape, my bottom (and thighs) are my largest part that I would very much prefer to be smaller than they are. I try to mitigate things with exercise: running, lifting weights, yoga, rowing, so that my rear is at least as muscled as possible. Without clothes, it is saggier than I would like; in them, I try not to look at it too much. I will occasionally don a pair of Spanx to smooth things out if I’m wearing anything too body-skimming – although these days I tend to eschew such clothes entirely, unless I’m going to the gym, where Spanx are obviously entirely unnecessary.
Today, however, the focus is very much on my bottom – quite literally, as I have a photographer taking pictures of it. For, in the name of journalistic research, I have donned a pair of M&S’s new bum pants – or “Bum Boosting Shorts” as they are officially known. Landing in shops tomorrow, they were launched by M&S apparently in response to customer demand, and are essentially a padded bra for your bottom: a £15 garment that will hoick things in, push things up and smooth out any unsightly lumps and bumps. The retailer’s head of lingerie design, Soozie Jenkinson, has suggested that the pants might appeal to wedding guests who plan to wear curve-skimming dresses this summer – but clearly don’t wish to spend any extra time in the gym doing squats. Kim Kardashian, eat your heart out.
There’s no doubt that the big bottom has become more fashionable in recent years. Ever since the aforementioned Kardashian “broke the internet” when a picture of her naked, oiled, impossibly large behind appeared on the front cover of Paper magazine in November 2014, a generous derriere has become something not to be minimised, but celebrated. When I was growing up in the 90s, the fearful question asked by the majority of women was “does my bum look big in this?”; these days, the desired answer to that question is “yes”. Instagram is full of tastefully-posed shots of juicy bottoms; according to the most recent figures from the International Society of Aesthetic Plastic Surgery, bottom augmentation procedures have increased by 41 per cent since 2017: in 2020, an estimated 396,105 people underwent Brazilian butt lift surgery to enhance their derrieres.
I confess, I have no desire to join their numbers. Yes I would like a perkier bottom; no I don’t want a bigger one, no matter what Kim, Beyoncé or Jennifer Lopez might tell me. Could M&S’s new pants offer a happy medium?
At first glance, they do not inspire confidence. The two padded inserts on the bum cheek area make the entire garment look like something Mrs Doubtfire would truss around her chest in an effort to look more womanly. You can remove the pads if you wish, but you would then be left with a pair of flesh-coloured cycling shorts – even less appealing.
Donning them, to be fair, is surprisingly easy: no physical wrestle required. And this is M&S, which means the pants are supremely comfy, as well as flatteringly sized: a standard size 10, I clock in as a size small. They’re not so tight as to either constrict blood flow or just move the fat from one part of my legs to another, and they do indeed skim smoothly over my bum.
In a pair of leggings, however, they make me look ridiculous – as if I’ve had a small shelf attached to my behind. Any muscle I have worked so hard to define in the gym to achieve has basically been erased by the addition of two balloons to the rear. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I am both mesmerised and horrified. My butt looks comedically huge. I feel entirely unlike myself.
Things are a little better in a long silky column dress – the sort of thing I might indeed wear to a wedding or a cocktail party. Here, the pants bring a shape that is a bit more subtle: they give me a definable bottom, rather than one that is flattened by the style of the dress. I still feel a bit ridiculous, but less so.
Would I wear them this summer? I’m not sure. Not with leggings. Possibly if I was considering something form-fitting – although I’m not drawn to the spray-on bodycon styles that are back in fashion. But I spent so many of my formative years being conditioned into wanting a smaller bottom that to deliberately enlarge it feels odd. Wearing the pants makes my rear feel out of proportion with the rest of me, as well as so obviously not mine. Why this should bother me so much I’m not sure: I’m perfectly happy to wear a padded bra, after all. But maybe it’s for the same reasons: I don’t mind a padded bra as I don’t have much up top; were I a flat-bottomed stick with no shape to my derriere I might quite enjoy rocking a big booty once in a while.
But I’m not, so I don’t, really. I’d rather try and achieve shape and lift with some extra squat thrusts. And yes, possibly a bit of judicious shapewear to streamline everything. But hold the butt pads.
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