LOOKING AT ASSES

Yep. We all do it. We look at other people’s asses. Most often, we don’t even do it on purpose. It’s automatic. Someone passes by in front of us, we look them up and down from behind and our eyes automatically land on their rump, backside, butt, fanny, buttocks, the seat of their pants, their ass…whatever you prefer to call it. We just do it.

What do we think when we do it? Often nothing really. We think nothing important about it and sometimes don’t even have an inner dialog about it. We look and just move on.

Sometimes though, if we’re bored, or the butt really gains our attention for some odd reason, we think about it. Our first impression is… “Gross! Wrong pants, moron!” Or maybe, “Ooo…nice!” Maybe, “Is that chocolate?…I hope it’s chocolate.”

Once in a while we may elaborate on the bum that meanders by. Staring at it for several seconds, just analyzing the seat. “Oh, yuck. Cellulite, dimples, pants too small, butt too large…Ditch the spandex!” Or maybe, “Wow, well rounded seat, costly jeans… I see he shops at Abercrombie. Must workout. Whaaat? He’s 25? So what, I’m 43. I ain’t dead yet.” “Wow, nice ass! I would so ask her out on a… Whaaat? She’s 16. Nope. Gotta run!”

Personally, I hate it when I see people wearing pants that are too small. It drives me nuts when I’m in Wal-mart behind someone whose pants are so small they’ve disappeared up the crack of their… And I’m standing their thinking. Does she have underwear on? I don’t see panty lines. Isn’t that uncomfortable? Does she think that looks good or attractive? I think that guy behind me is staring at her butt. What’s he thinking?

Sometimes, this happens on the beach, or at the local swimming hole. We’re just sippin’ our soft drink…or what have you…minding our damned business then, wham! He walks by, belling carrying triplets, beer in hand, tiniest speedo in the world holding up his business in a way that makes us feel light headed. No, no. He doesn’t look anything like Keith Urban or LL Cool J. No, not this guy. He looks like something we might find in the next Austin Powers flick, hanging out with Big Fat Bastard, eating mustard-laden chili dogs and farting. Oh…my…God, Becky…Did he just stop and scratch his…. We ladies then think, holy cow! And the other guys?…They pour out those Buds and order a bottle of spring water. The dog in the front is about to bust out, the junk in the trunk is smilin’ at us as it eats the back of his swimming attire and the only thing we can do is stop and stare. Okay, maybe giggle.

But, we look. We can’t help it. It doesn’t matter if it’s Beyonce walking around or Big Fat Bastard, we stare. Doesn’t matter if we love it or hate it. We look. Doesn’t matter if we’re rushing around downtown on our lunch hour or wandering around our neighborhood. We look. Sometimes we don’t even realize we’re doing it. Sometimes we like what we see. Sometimes we don’t, but we look. Once in a while there’s inner dialog, or not. We just do it.

So, what’s the point to this blog? Well, nothing. Nothing at all.

I bet next time a butt passes you by you won’t look at it the same way again. Happy rump watching!