Rusty Dusty, Rump, Derriere...At the Receiving End?

Credits: pinterest.com

An unusual topic I guess but I had to write it, having been at the receiving end a number of times! The backside is a butt of jokes ever so often. We humans, as a race, whether we admit or not, are obsessed with our behinds- not just ours actually! You don’t agree? Take a look at the adorable synonyms it has! Bahookie, patootie, bazoo, tochus, bippy, caboose, jacksie, prat, rass and many many more! There is a site which claims to have 310 synonyms for the same. See! Like I said, we are completely bum crazy people! However, if it makes you uncomfortable, you can call yourself an exception!!

Credits: me.me

While men are likely to eye buttocks from (ahem!) reasons known best to them, women mostly eye it (yes, women ogle a lot more!) for the “cuteness quotient” (I never thought I could actually write this!) A pat on the butt or a pinch is akin to pulling a chubby cheek (of the face)!!

Credits: pinterest.com

And yet, that poor backside is always under scrutiny and criticism- more so for the feminine gender! Now, the keister comes in different shapes and sizes…seemingly textures too. Small and firm to small and jiggly to the same varieties in large to extra large and so on, well- rounded to broad, some flat or seemingly nonexistent, others protruding- the permutations and combinations are aplenty! It is unfair to single it out and want it to meet a standard! Isn’t there freedom anymore?

However, this squishy body part is one that can get you into embarrassing situations and I am not talking about the #MeToo scenario at all! I for one have had three such major moments, the last of which is fairly recent!

Credits: whykol.com

Before I get into those terrible situations let us talk about saddlebags! For a long while, I called them lumps and then I learnt about love handles and saddlebags and left it at that, until recently, when my kids, lying on either side of me one afternoon, asked me almost in unison, “Are these are part of your thigh or buns?” (“or buns” in a very British accent) I would’ve been shocked at the query but I was wondering why I never thought of that before. When you look at it from the front, it is my thigh and when you look at it from behind, it looks like my hip! Can you believe that I actually found the answer now while writing the blog? Supposedly, it is the “glutes-hamstring-tie-in” as per the Women’s Health magazine. When the muscles between the hamstrings and the base of the glutes (Gluteus Maximus, Medius and Minimus together- a term which is an absolute favourite with the gym instructor) aren’t worked out, they get soft and spill to the sides! So, that’s solved then…is it? I would include it as a part of my seat especially when we are talking about sitting!

The first time this came to my notice was in the year I got commissioned as a Pilot Officer. I had been posted to my first Station and as per tradition I was to be briefly interviewed by the Air Officer Commanding. I was asked to take a seat which I did rather easily but within minutes I realized that I was in trouble. It was a horse shoe shaped cushioned chair, where the cushion bulged out extra from the corners. My thighs were squashed together and would have made me feel like a mermaid if I was in another situation. Here, I was worried. Despite my best efforts, I am seldom able to hide my expression in unexpected situations and this was perhaps one such scenario but here, it worked in my favour. The superior officer in front of me, a thorough gentleman, sensed the discomfiture and possibly made out my careful twist cum wriggle in slow motion to get to the edge of the chair and so he conversed for two more minutes, till the look of triumph came on my face, before wishing me well as I took on my duties. I gave him a crisp and most grateful salute before I exited.

Almost a year later, in the same place, I was attending the morning briefing. Unfortunately, it wasn’t just a flying briefing or else I’d have saved some face-lesser people, some redemption. I wasn’t that lucky. It was Mass Briefing where the entire Station had gathered. I carefully reached a chair that lay vacant between two gentlemen in a hall that had already filled up to max capacity (yes, I was running late). Minutes later you could hear a pin drop and then the briefing began. I shifted, adjusting my behind between the hand rests of that hard plastic “Nilkamal” chair and SLUMP! I land on my tush, legs up in the air (thank the Lord for the overalls!) and there is laughter and a few failed attempts at concealing it as I scramble up and pretend it was nothing. The gentleman on my right was concerned and was the only one who hadn’t laughed. Well, he is my husband today!!

And how time flies! A year or two ago, we were driving down along the length of our beautiful country when we were stopped at a toll booth. Serving Defence Personnel do not have to pay the toll tax- one of the privileges granted by a grateful Nation. However, every now and then a few doubtful booths will produce some letter or argument and ask to be paid. One such booth came in our way but my husband was in no mood to let him get away with it so he asked to see the manager since we had had a smooth ride up until then. He parked our car to the side exposing us to the blistering sun at noon and walked in to meet the manager. He had no proof to show so I quickly went on to the internet (thankfully, there was connectivity) and pulled out the latest rule clearly stating the same. I left the kids in and ran after my husband to assist him in the battle!!

I walked into the manager’s office with my head held high and saw him looking into a file- my husband nowhere in sight! He looked up at me and I felt like an idiot and excused myself mumbling something about a lost husband when the door opened and my husband walks in with someone else who explained the matter to the Manager. He was dismissed and we were offered a chair and then began the discussion. My soft spoken husband said something in a quiet manner while the manager stuck to his stance waving the letter he had in his hand. I took over excitedly and asked the date on the letter and was thrilled that the letter I had found was more recent and in that heated moment, I rose to show him my find. Alas! The same old “Nilkamal” chair decided to declare everlasting friendship and remained stuck to my hindquarters. Had I not been in the thick of the argument I would have dug a hole and buried myself in it. Instead, I knocked it back with my left hand as I handed over my mobile with the said letter. The Manager must have noticed the fiasco but the dear man decided to stick to the task at hand without change in expression. Meanwhile, I looked for some support from the man I came to rescue and what do I see?!! Someone shaking with laughter, more so on making eye contact, and motioning to the chair!!! The same gentleman I told you about nearly two decades ago! Well, I convinced the manager and we were told to go after we shook hands with one another.

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Once out in the Sun, daggers were drawn. I refused to talk to the man I call my husband! He was apologizing between peals of uncontrolled laughter. My kids who can read my face to perfection understood when they saw me get in but were confused at the happiness on their father’s face. I had to tell them and watch them laugh happily with their Dad! It had to happen…butt naturally!

Well, did you know that there is an International Butt Day??!! So much so for all the flak they get!!