Apple Bottom Jeans Are A Misnomer
I am only in 3rd grade
We are playing house at recess
And a boy named Sam says
I can’t be the mom
Because I have a flat butt
While real moms have big ones
He pushes me down as he tells me
That I can be the sister
I accept it because at least
They are letting me play
And I’m only eight
My butt will grow
I make it to middle school
And even though it was sexual assault
I crave to know what it is to be desired
I wonder why the boys don’t choose me
To push up against lockers with their groin
They call it taking cakes
I gladly offer up free apples
But they want to steal peaches
So when a boy named Gerald
Finally takes mine
I am grateful for the opportunity
And ignore the funny feeling
Flash forward to high school
I’m in sophomore chemistry class
A graduated cylinder in my hand
Contemplating nothing of importance
There is a ruckus near the front
A boy named Justin
My crush
Announces to the room
That I have a small butt… but it’s still nice
Students giggle as they appraise my jeans
I smile and pretend I don’t care
I write in my journal about it because I do
I’m 37 years old
A man I marry mistakenly tells me
He notices a butt that doesn’t belong to me
My soul departs from myself
I leave and watch my body
Crying alone in my bed
And it’s not about my ass
It’s really never been about my ass
But somehow it is
And I wonder again why
The way my fat distributes
Matters so much to me
One thought on "Apple Bottom Jeans Are A Misnomer"
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The ‘cakes, apples, peaches’ lines are a solid one-two-three punch there in the second stanza. And the way you set the scenes with so much specific details shows to the reader how impactful these moments were. It’s very vulnerable. Thank you for your courage in putting this out there!