Watch Out Behind You!

This is a little story that I wrote while attending college. It was for a class I took on body image, and it made me take a look hard at my values and prejudices. This is the first one of four that I worked on. One day I hope to have these published.

Watch Out Behind You!

I have one. Most people have one. They come in all different sizes and shapes and provide necessary functions for our bodies. What is this wondrous thing that follows behind? A butt it is, and by any other name it would still be a butt.
What would I do without by behind, which holds up my pants. I always wear pants, so this is very important in my life. “Honey, do these pants make my butt look fat?” I see this look of horror rush over my husband’s face when presented with this no-win questions. “Of course not!” he answers.
We’ve been married 38 years and he has learned, through the many times I have asked this question, that there is only one correct answer. Smart man! My butt has gone from small, to medium, to fat, to medium. Sadly, it has never gone back to small. I would rate my butt as medium to fat at this stage of my life. With just the right pair of pants, it can look like a medium butt.
At a glorious 56-years-old, I have finally come to terms with my bottom and the many other necessary parts of my body. It is wonderful to be older and understand that the fluid nature of body size does not reflect character. It may reflect mood; depression, happiness, sadness, or just a love of food. My butt has been the recipient of many of these moody experiences, from the food that enters through my mouth and exits through the rear.
It has also been part of the process of birthing two children and was then the beneficiary of stretch marks. These are truly marks of valor, because anyone who has managed labor and then the birth process can attest to the pain of it. What an experience! Having my first child at a teaching hospital, I was the proud laborer who had a bevy of student doctors and nurses watching my butt, and other appropriate regions, for the ejection of the baby. At least one of us was very happy for that moment, because I could take my private parts back to cover. This experience did leave me with the advantage of being much less modest throughout life.
My butt has been with me since birth, and I have used and abused it. By this I mean the self-hatred I directed toward it when it was not the size I wanted it to be. Most of the time these days, my butt and I are in a pretty easy truce. Every now and then I give it a good talking to for not fitting just right into those pants I have spoken of.
I like this truce. I appreciate my butt for being there for me. It continues to provide a pants holder, a physical function, a place for my husband to pat. I still wish it would fit perfectly into every pair of pants I own, but overall I have come to terms with my derriere.


Author: Theresa Huber
Copyright © 2008