I KNOW This Song Is About Me

Awhile ago I posted about my bony ass butt which had been whittled down like a branch in the hands of a nervous Appalachian man due to stress. Well fret not dear readers--I have discovered chocolate covered pretzels and all is once again somewhat cushy in my tushy (and my belly's gotten quite squishy, just in time for swimsuit season! Yay, me!). But that's not why I brought up my bum yet again. No, I brought it up because when I wrote about my flapjack ass back in April one anonymous reader commented with a very eloquent GET OVER YOURSELF ALREADY! And although I deleted the comment and immediately took to my bed in the fetal position, I had to wonder, what part of "no ass" is tooting my own horn? How is writing about losing my mind, my job and my pride in the course of two weeks stuck up? How do I get over myself when I write about poop and the perennial zit on my chin? Where is the snobbery in snot? Self-involved, yes, hell, yes! But this is a blog, for chrissakes! Isn't that what I'm supposed to do here? Write as if I actually have something to SAY???

Obviously anonymous got to me. I have never been good with criticism. If you cut me off in traffic and flip me the bird I carry it around for the day like an albatross, a stinky, heavy corpse to serve as a reminder of my place in society, draped down into my cleavage like rotten meat. So maybe in a way anonymous was right: I DO need to get over myself but not because I have no ass and think I am the shit for having no shitter. I need to get over myself because I care too much about what other people think.

So anonymous, this one's for you.Whether the pockets on my jeans cast the only shadow from my behind...

Or my trunk spilleth over with *junk...

This baby's got back (bone). And if I ever do toot my own horn, it won't be because of my butt; it will be for my brain. Check me out, anonymous, I've just been published on Mommy Track'd! And there's more where that came from. Stay tuned!

*Full Disclosure: the junk in question is actually seven plush bedtime socks stuffed into the back of my jeans. So if anonymous wants to kick my ass after reading this post she can knock herself out. I won't feel a damn thing.