SoMa Literary Review - Once Upon an Ass

Once Upon an Ass

By Bruce Machado

So the other weekend I saw quite a few women walking up and down the streets of San Francisco with words on their asses, mostly the same words over and over again. I guess they commonly subscribe to the philosophy of ‘its not what you say but how you say it that matters’, that and ‘where you say it’. I think that a woman who has a word or words stenciled, stitched or otherwise printed upon the stretched tight backside of a pair of shorts, sweats, or exercise pants should expect a few things to happen while wearing such clothing in public.

One: People are going to look at her ass. Period. Somebody, even in a passing glance, even if it isn’t me, is going to read what is there, bouncing up and down as the ass message bearer walks on by.

Two: Sooner or later, probably sooner, somebody is going to “read” the message bearer’s ass as well. They will mentally critique the overall form of that pair of buttocks. The tighter the fabric covering the rump, the more that the overall firmness, roundness, bulk, shape and curve of the rear end, or lack thereof will all be evaluated. Said bottom might be silently or even audibly praised, or not. Perhaps the ass message bearer might even inspire a pair of onlookers to high-five in appreciation.

Three: After having absorbed so much gluteus detail, many readers of an ass message will most likely and without much effort, now have a picture in their minds of what the ass message bearer’s ass might look like unclothed. The overall shape is of course most apparent when the fabric covering the bum is tight - all which is left to visualize it a vertical crack up the center, an accurate flesh tone and the occasional dimple.

Sure, one could argue that people will look at a stranger’s tush and visualize or otherwise objectify those buns regardless of how much fabric is draping the derriere, regardless of shape or size, regardless of whether or not words are printed crosswise the taut fabric concealing the flesh. Some strangers, some people on the street simply like to look at people’s asses. But then again, when the word Abercrombie, or Nike, or Sweet, or Pink is stitched in the dead center of a hindquarter, I feel that more attention will be paid towards those particularly noticeable types of tail ends. Human curiosity to read the bouncy ass message is sooner or later, well, … going to be aroused. And the split second after the word has registered in the ass gazer’s mind, they are left staring in contemplation at a woman’s keister. It’s a kind of sexual objectification entrapment.

If a woman has words covering her fanny, regardless of the language, her ass is probably going to garner more attention than it would if the slate were to be so to speak, blank. That just seems to be a common sense issue to me. Call me silly, but whenever I look at a word, I am inclined to read it. If a word is on the rear end of a woman walking away from my line of sight then I’ll be looking directly at her ass in order to read what is printed there. After reading so many literal messages that day, I began to wonder about the symbolic.

There is a multi-layered symbolism inherent in every ass message bearer’s message. There is the literal symbolism of a product or corporate name / logo / advertisement and then there is also a certain amount of innuendo associated with having a word affixed on a woman’s haunches. At the very least, there exists the implicit meaning that ass message bearers are comfortable enough being in public while having total strangers stare at their heinies for at least as long as it take to read their cutesy ass messages. At the most… well, I wouldn’t care to speculate too deeply on the reasons why a woman would intentionally wear clothing with words printed across the ass. I’m certain that some women like having their asses ogled and some don’t. I’m also quite certain that some percentage of the female population of San Francisco is quite proud of their posteriors, proud enough to wear the word “PINK” on their patooties. I would guess that the eyes of many folks linger a bit longer after reading the word “PINK” on the lower south end of a north bound woman. Might as well slap the word “FOCUS,” along her butt cheeks instead. Or how about, to quote John Lennon, the word “IMAGINE”.

Unless I know a woman well enough and can get away with being the smartass that I am (pun intended), I would never be so insensitive as to ask the “PINK” ass message bearer, “Excuse me… but do you realize that in wearing those shorts with the word pink printed on your buns in capital letters that it appears to this casual observer as if you are objectifying your own sex? How do you feel about that? Inquiring minds want to know.” I would never make a comment like that to a total stranger, unless I was really, really drunk. But there are those who will and they’ll do it cold and more or less sober.

I think that any woman who wears an ass message pair of sweats or shorts doesn’t have the right to become overly indignant if someone were to ask such questions. For that matter, no woman who wears shorts with words on the duff, especially the word “PINK” can claim the ignorance defense; as in, “Gee, I never thought about it like that before”. Under such circumstances, ignorance of the implied sexual innuendo is not a valid excuse in my book. Those “PINK” asses know what they’re doing. They might as well waltz down the street like the town crier, swinging a cowbell while they cry out to gain the attentions of the citizens, “Hear ye, Hear ye. Gaze upon my ass!”

Really though, I don’t care what clothing anyone wears. How a person choose to accouter themselves and all their “hangy-down parts” is just fine by me. However, in regards to the women who are the bearers of ass messages, I would hope that those who unashamedly bear the word “PINK” horizontally on their fundaments would at least have a sense of humor about it.

A young woman that I observed recently did not. She had been wearing a skin tight pair of pink shorts with the word “PINK” stenciled in the seat. Unfortunately for her, the “N” was wedged up pretty thoroughly in her vertical smile, so far in fact that it appeared as if she had the word “PIK” on her ass.

I loved the irony of that. So did a street person lounging in front of a laundromat that called out to her, “Hey woman, you ass says ‘PIK’. You might want to listen to it.”

Without a backwards glance and sans any public ass picking to correct the unintentional misspelling, the young woman silently replied by giving the man the bird. To which he retorted, “Well shit lady, gimme a break will yah? It’s not like I’m walking around in my underwear with the word “COCK” on the front of it.”

I found his remark to be rather inspiring. It seemed to say, “Take that, all you San Franciscan “PINK” asses.” Personally, I’m too passive aggressive to be so flagrantly rude without direct provocation. My style of rudeness is completely different.

Yes, that man’s remarks were inspiring. Maybe I’ll go to the local thrift store and see if I can’t dig up a decent pair of men’s Dolphin shorts from the eighties; a pair that doesn’t have the crotch worn out by countless athletic hours of ball-sweat saturation. I’ll take them home and have my wife sew onto the front of them the word “PACKAGE” and then strut my word up and down the streets of San Francisco, bouncy-bouncy.

Imagine that.

Bruce Machado is a MFA student in the Writing and Consciousness Program at New College of California, San Francisco. He lives in Santa Rosa.