It’s April, about 48 hours since our kid was born and admitted to the NICU, and I am finally feeling well enough to shuffle down the hall to the shower on my own.
I am going to enjoy this shower.
I might even wash my hair.
To ensure an optimal mood-boosting atmosphere, I balance my iPhone on the edge of the sink and set my playlist to shuffle. I’m greeted by the transcendent vocal talents of Jessie J., Ariana Grande, and Nicki Minaj.
If you know their 2014 hit Bang Bang, you’ll wonder why on earth it’s on my playlist. I don’t have a good answer.
If you don’t, just picture a lot of pink and leopard print and “hairography.” Plus Nicki Minaj arriving on a helicopter halfway through the song to lend Ariana Grande (America’s whitest rapper, who spends most of the music video rolling around on a bed in patent leather stilettos) some street cred.
The problem with Bang Bang is that it’s a bit infectious, and whenever I hear it, I can’t help but start bopping around. Now is no exception, even in all my postpartum, carefully-clutching-the-handicapped-safety-rail sexiness.
Then comes the line, “She’s got a booty like a Cadillac” and I can’t help but wonder: what does this mean? I mean, I get the double entendre of the “Bang Bang” motif that runs through the song (“Bang bang into the room/I know you want it/Bang bang all over you/I’ll let you have it”) but “a booty like a Cadillac?”
What exactly makes a booty Cadillac-like?
Is it big?
It is shiny?
Flanked by headlights?
I don’t know. I know only that my booty is likely the least Cadillac-like that it has ever been in my life.