Return to site

I get Cheeky

'My God, I'm Gorgeous.'

Becoming a woman is equivalent to a mathematician solving a long equation. There are rules that apply to different numbers, you can divide if you multiply first, and no matter how you follow PEMDAS, you get the wrong answer. It’s the same for women. When I solve an equation for womanhood, I take a shot. depending on how long the equation was, the more shots I take. For example, when I realized why every Clorox infomercial would tell me their product would remove bloodstains; I assumed they were appealing to every serial killer. It all made sense when I got my period (three shots). Another rule is the tampon rule. When another female needs a tampon, give it to her. I have given my last tampon to the girl who stole my last bite of key lime pie, and my boyfriend (six shots). I think I’m more upset about the pie. Lastly, when a girl needs you to talk to her in the bathroom, let her talk, and listen patiently (Thank you, Lena) (Two shots).

Women understand it, “They’re more like guidelines”(Pirates of the Caribbean). And when you realize another one, it’s another equation solved, another shot, and another cheers to womanhood.

My biggest equation was the day my life got cheeky. I consider myself an average built little lady. I’m Mexican and Arab, so my ‘look’ is a mix. I have BIG hair; no one in my family knows where it's from. I have a theory I’m part lion. I’ve always been dealing with weight issues and living in Hollywood has caused unnecessary self-body shaming. Which forced me to hide myself in yoga pants and sweatshirts. Then I got a real job, and I had to wear a uniform.

I have a complicated job. Not many people understand it. It consists of me taking peoples food orders, putting them in a computer, bringing the food to the table when it’s ready, and then, someone getting angry that their food has carrots, even though they never said they didn’t want carrots. It’s interesting. My first day there, I had to wear grey pants and a white button up, AND I had to tuck in the shirt. It was tight. It was uncomfortable. It was painful.

I walked into work with a semi positive attitude. My friend was at the front and the minute I walked in, her eyes got big. She must have seen my camel toe.

“Mari!” she says.

“How bad is it?” I asked.

“Bad? Nothings bad! Girl, your ass! It’s beautiful.”

My thoughts at that moment, GIRL YOU’RE DRUNK! DO YOU NOT SEE MY THUNDER THIGHS AND WIDE HIPS?! EVERYTHING IS JIGGLING!

I received more and more attention about my butt (it feels weird saying ass, but stupid saying buttocks). For a time, I was convinced that it was just the pants. Kohl’s tricked me! I went to Target. No luck. I felt uncomfortable. If someone said excuse me, I thought it was specifically meant for my butt. Every man I walked by on the street, sidewalk, and bakery, was staring at it. I declared sanctuary in my sweats.

It wasn’t until I went out for a run (I’m training for a half marathon, I’m up to 8.5 miles, a round of applause inserted here) and I caught some girl’s reflection in the mirror. And I was thinking, wow, that girl is really curvy, I wished I had that. I kept going and saw her reflection again. I was convinced someone was following me. I realized, that that curvy girl was me.

And I looked FUCKING. AMAZING.

Another equation solved. BOOM.

I have been looking down and feeling ashamed of my large thighs, my wide hips, my weird torso… but what I did not realize is all of that was a foundation to support my GLORIOUS, BEAUTIFUL, BIG ass. That song, Big Butts, was on replay for the rest of my run.

I imagined myself being initiated into a sorority, Kappa Gamma Butt, where Beyonce, Nikki Minaj, and America Ferrera would be my sisters, and together we would take on the haters and preach love to all! I wanted to sing to the world! I wanted to dance! Hello world, I am Mari Assad, and I get cheeky!!!!!!!!! And the world would say, “Hey Mari, remember you’re still running and you’re in public, tone it down, but we’re happy for you!”

A lot of shots were taken for this. I don’t remember how many. Cause I got too drunk and I had to call my roommate to pick me up. And he got really annoyed that I kept singing Big Butts. It was worth it.

All Posts
×

Almost done…

We just sent you an email. Please click the link in the email to confirm your subscription!

OKSubscriptions powered by Strikingly