This Butt's for You

You know what's sad? Besides the fact that I'm not rich, that is.

I don't have a butt.

I'm not disfigured, or anything ... I have the correct hip joints and such. But where my rear end should be is just empty space. It's a non-butt, an anti-heinie.

I've always known that I wasn't particularly blessed in the butticular area, but it never seemed to be a big deal. I was a skinny kid growing up, so my lack of buttedness wasn't especially noticeable. I wanted muscles in my chest and arms - I didn't care too much about an area of my body I couldn't even see.

Then one day in high school, I was walking with a female friend in the hallway. Another friend of mine, Ricky Skinner, was walking a short distance ahead of us. My friend sighed.

"Ricky is just good-looking from any angle," she said. "Even his butt is pretty."

I have to admit, I'd never really noticed Ricky's butt before, but once she pointed it out to me, I realized his jeans fit his rear end in a way that mine didn't. The seat of his jeans didn't sag, for one thing. And he had to really tug on his wallet to get it out of his back pocket - it didn't slide out easily, the way my wallet did. I told myself it was because my wallet was much slimmer and more stylish than Ricky's, but I knew I was just fooling myself.

I tried doing some exercises to increase my butt muscles, but all that did was make me feel like I'd gotten several penicillin shots in my hips. I resigned myself to living my life as a cripple, retarded in the rear end. I learned little tricks to compensate; for example, since I was 16, I've never turned my back on anyone, ever. It makes it difficult to walk in a crowd sometimes, but we all have our crosses to bear.

My paucity in the posterior was brought home to me quite forcefully recently when my wonderful wife Kristin bought me some new jeans. They felt fine, but I soon discovered a problem with them - they would gape underneath my belt in the back. The belt would stay in the loops, but between the loops the jeans would slide down underneath the belt. This hadn't happened with other jeans, and I couldn't figure out what the problem was. Kristin looked at the jeans one day when I wasn't wearing them, and then made her pronouncement.

"I see the problem," she said. "These jeans are designed for someone who has a butt. There's extra material here, and since it doesn't have anything to grab on to when you wear them, it makes the waistband slide down."

So now I can't wear these jeans, and I'm starting to worry a little bit about some of my underwear, too. It seems looser than it should be.

I wonder if I could qualify for a huge federal grant or something like that. Or maybe I could join the circus. I'd need a second person in my act, though, for comparative purposes.

I wonder if Ricky Skinner is busy.

(c) 2012 John Puckett