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

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