Don’t slap it. If you do, I’ll bitch slap you back, not on the ass.
The only exceptions to this include my BFFs because that’s just totally fair game. Though, if you slap one side you also have to slap the other so it doesn’t get jealous. After all, you don’t want the right cheek to get a complex, do you?
Oh, the other exception is that certain someone. I tried to fight it but he kind of shows affection like a six year old boy teasing girls at recess. Though, I’m pretty sure he does it mostly because he’s realized that 99% of the time I’ll respond with, “Don’t touch it unless you’re going to do something with it.”
Those are the only exceptions.
I’ve had some contention with my butt over the years. I’ve also had many nicknames for it, most of which weren’t very nice.
In the gaining years, maintaining years, and the time period when I was just starting to lose weight I called my butt “The Butt Shelf.” It totally was a butt shelf. Like, I’m pretty sure you could have placed some glass figurines on it and they would have been just as safe as if you had put them on a book shelf. The top of my ass continued up and connected into my lower back fat. It stuck straight out flat, followed by a perfect 90 degree angle and vertical flatness that stuck out much to far.
It was so extreme that if I wore a skirt it would appear to be a good six inches shorter in the back than it was in the front. If I wore pants, it always looked like my butt was hanging out even though it was the lower back fat. What a relief it was when really long shirts came into style!
While I never actually experimented with placing any objects on the butt shelf, I really am pretty sure I could have. But really, the self deprecating humor, in this case, was to hide my loathing for it. I hated it. If it couldn’t be visually appealing, it at least needed to be funny. That was my philosophy about myself in general at the time.
Besides being ugly, the weight of it made my back hurt all the time. Don’t I sound like a crotchety old whiner…
Slowly, though, that shelf started to soften around the edges and a curve emerged where there had once been angles. Clearly this called for a new nickname. Thus “The Butt Shelf” became “The Built In Bustle.”
This nickname had much less venom behind it. In fact, it was created one night when I was joking around, narcissistically praising the new curvature of my behind. For the new nickname I received the praise of an ass slap and the exclamation of, “I like it!”
Why thank you, so do I.
Just like with the kiss, that small act suddenly changed how I viewed one of my most hated features.
See, that’s how you earn ass slapping privileges.
Nowadays I haven’t really been calling it anything. It doesn’t look like a built in bustle anymore, it just looks like a booty, a big one.
And I like it.
Still, don’t slap it.