my ass

i was reading pamie's blog (i say this like we're buddies or something. she wrote a book. about her blog. i attach myself to her literary success vicariously. i'm a book leech. i admit it. feel better?) in which she discusses obsessing about her ass, because she was once overweight. she points out that it's not her best 'feminist' moment, but she sincerely worries about how her bum looks. the interesting thing is that i, too, am ass-obsessed. i waver between worrying that my posterior is too small (i refer to my ass as my lack thereof an ass, most of a time) to worrying that it is too big. this is because i, too, lost about 30lbs a couple of years ago.. a large portion of which previously resided, i'm sure, squarely on my behind. so i have these wierd moments when i look in the mirror and see a GIANT ASS. then i have these other wierd moments when i look in the mirror and see two twigs protruding directly from a torso. not that it's a theme i've been flirting with this past week or anything, but i think it's funny. here i am - a feminist. i mean, my family has fairly standard gender roles, but we were never raised to think we needed a man for anything - always taught to be self reliant etc.. and my minor was gender studies for god's sake. but i still get caught up in not loving my body; being caught up in body image.

(for the record, i previewed my blog and realized that i said *ass* about a million times, so went back and pretty much exhausted my inner thesaurus looking for synonyms)