So I have a fat ass. This is nothing new. Neither is my talking about it. I wrote a spoken piece about it, the reputation of which followed me for my entire college career, much like my ass itself. Despite tipping over desks and struggling to find pants that fit (though thankfully high-rise jeans are in-style so goodbye forever plumbers’ crack), there are some benefits: just like girls with long hair that can’t dance, having a fat ass can elevate your lackluster moves simply be being visually appealing. I should point out most benefits involve others perception or potential use (ex. having a great homegrown pillow) of my body. Appreciating my body has meant moving away from enjoying it only as it is enjoyable to others but that takes, is taking, time and continuous self-reflection on how I feel about myself and the space I occupy.
I’m also painfully awkward. Not in the cutesy sitcom kind of way but in the I have diagnosed social anxiety disorder kind of way. This combination, especially as my body type has increasingly become more desirable by the mainstream, has led to a comedy of errors at best.
Suddenly and rapidly being desired, after spending adolescence very much not being wanted, is jarring. Separate from being catcalled, being objectified on the personal level is so falsely intimate.
At first, it was overwhelming. Going from ugly duckling to fuckable goose is like a wet dream gone left. Yeah sure having people lust after you is nice in theory but in practice? Well I didn’t have any practice so consider it the social equivalent to jumping on the elliptical without any stretching or warm up — exhausting and harder than it looks with the potential for bodily harm.
Being sexualized in spaces that seem more appropriate for it, like at a party or bar, has made it difficult for me to recognize that I’m still just being seen as an ass with legs, especially if there is small talk involved. I hate small talk, after karaoke it is my personal kryptonite, so if I’m engaging in it please know I’m desperately trying to appear normal. And in situations with a potential sexual undercurrent, small talk takes on a specifically hard to read form of someone seemingly being interested in you as an actual human being. But that’s the gag sis! You’re still just an ass with legs! Unlike the dudes ogling you at the gas station, this individual is taking the time to talk to you but the desired outcome is the same.
Something I’m willing myself to push to the forefront of my mind more often is to faster identify if someone’s interest is solely physical. I don’t think there is a problem in being interested in the physical only (granted that you name that instead of putting on a show until you can get in someone’s draws — but that’s another topic for another day) but as someone with low sexual esteem and even lower social navigation skills, that attention can be treacherous. I can’t always piece together someone’s intentions and often find out too late to prevent emotional damage. It’s nice to be wanted, to find someone to talk to or dance with in an otherwise stressful social environment, to do what people do during these types of things (cause this is what people do, right?). Being desperate for validation can make you willing, at least in the moment, to accept a perverse version of it.
And as someone with a fat ass, there is a lot of perverse validation available for the taking. The problem lies in that being the majority of romantic experience available. Is it even romantic? Maybe that’s the actual problem — I’m looking for romance in opportunities where the purpose is sexual, but it’s hard not to when most situations lead to that. It’s a chicken egg scenario: which comes first, looking for love in all the wrong places or all the wrong places being wherever you are?
I’ve been perceived as a vixen, as thick as a bowl of cold grits, as someone who can’t possibly be a virgin, not with an ass like that. I’ve smiled and flirted and engaged in small talk because I was genuinely interested in someone just to realize the signs I read were wrong — no they’re not trying to meet up again later, in broad daylight, to get to know you more, this person is just trying to catch a nut. And I get that, I do, but having a fat ass does not mean I’m always where that energy should be thrown.
I’m learning, often the hard way, how to spot this energy faster. I’m learning how to enjoy the time and space for what it is and, most importantly, how to figure out what I really want before it’s too late (and often, I don’t really want what’s being offered so why bother? Something is not always better than nothing). I’m not gonna lie, it does save time to enter a situation knowing that, no matter how much offbeat twerking you about to throw back, you shouldn’t invest much energy or care because the same won’t be invested in you. But it can be disheartening to be dubious off rip.
It’s a difficult balance, trying to be smart while also being aware there’s so much I still don’t understand. I’m often perceived in a sexual way, whether I am striving for that or not, and I need to be just as conscious of that as I am of my general social discomfort. Not to be debilitating but to be safe, to be confident in my actions because I’m acting based on what I want (despite or in spite of expectations), to be comfortable and hopefully a little less anxious.
