There used to be a time where, not so long ago in East Canada, when you mean bottom heavy young white women in the unwhite sense of the word, you mean exactly that one template body: pleasantly plump or even borderline Rubenesque, full-figured, on the onset of advanced Lipedemia with frog's legs on the way to expand any sonner into full-blown jodhpur thighs country, a set of birthing hips readied for the most singular waddling sway, and an ample albeit small-to-average-fleshed rear to match their pear silhouetted bottom half.
Now, they're all coming up with their Jen Setler like ballooning booties, as if they suddenly figured out how to work up a caboose.
This site uses cookies to help personalise content, tailor your experience and to keep you logged in if you register.
By continuing to use this site, you are consenting to our use of cookies.