"I don't understand why everyone is always going on about my butt.
I'm Armenian. It's normal." -Kim Kardashian
Maybe I shouldn't have peeked,
but no regrets.
All the others looked.
It's not like there was
much of a choice.
It was plastered everywhere.
I looked at a solar eclipse once,
even though we were warned not to.
Maybe I'm just a rebel,
or someone with
oppositional defiant disorder.
People seem to have trouble
looking away from a car wreck,
I wonder why.
Human nature,
I suppose.
At birth, you get a ticket to the freak show.
In America, you get a front row seat.
At first glance,
at what appeared to look
more like one of those
centauroid creatures,
than someone's mother,
I started wondering
if there was something wrong
with me,
as insecurities
about my
not so ample derrière
began to mount.
Maybe I should stop
this silly dieting thing,
load up on carbs,
eat French fries
with wild abandonment,
so I could
pack it on
in the caboose area, too.
A protrusion,
a swelling,
a bulge.
Succulent.
slathered,
oiled,
camera ready,
open for business.
There is nothing wrong with your computer screen.
Do not attempt to adjust the picture.
We are controlling the transmission.
It's a bum,
bum,
ba dum bum,
And needs to
be seen,
at all times,
or its host
may wilt,
and fade into oblivion.
Melting!
Melting!
Oh, what a world!
It's the tucas of the hour,
in all its shining glory,
and photo-shopped magnificence;
the butt that's launched
a thousand ships.
Still,
some lingering,
questions remain:
What kind of world is it,
where ugliness is the norm,
and beauty the deviation from that norm?
Hellooo?
People?
Over here.
And scene.