This may seem a bit ridiculous to you, but for me it has become a serious problem. For many years, I have lived comfortably with my beer butt, but now that I am entering middle age and my metabolism is slowing- my body is becoming disproportionate. I am a tall man. A very tall man. To make things even stranger I am quite skinny, maybe even skinny enough to be used as a toothpick between god’s teeth. Having a large behind is not flattering for a relatively handsome man such as myself. It looks oddly out of balance with the rest of my body and almost makes me look like I stuff crumpled up t-shirts in the butt of my pants. When I am out in public I am starting to receive more questioning or maligned stares from strangers, and the collection of women who once found me moderately attractive, seem to stare at my beer butt and then quickly look away.
I will admit. It is strange to see a tall, skinny man with a rather well proportioned face, with a huge ass. Like a cat that is confused by the strange creature in front of it, people seem confused by what they see when they look at me. They notice that something is off, not quite right- but it appears that they do not know if what they are seeing is a practical joke being played upon them or the hard and often troubling truth of reality. My family seems to have a bit more empathy for my condition but I have noticed that my father refuses to look at me and my sister seems a little disgusted. When I am around my family I feel as if they are thinking, “how could you have let yourself go like this! Once you had so much that you could of achieved with your looks and now you have let it all go.” I do not mind their scorn since I can not expect everyone to love me for who I am- but I will not argue the fact that my beer butt is becoming a bit of a problem.
I started noticing the beer going to my butt about five years ago, around the age of thirty. Prior to that I had been drinking beer regularly without it ever affecting my physique. I always considered myself one of the fortunate few who could drink excessive amounts of beer on a regular basis without any collateral damage to my form. It was a luxury that I took advantage of in a world where people who love beer usually pay for it in the belly. The beer belly is one of the most loved and dreaded physical features in our society, and I was always relieved that I did not have to carry around that bulging symbol of my love for beer. But like my grandpa always used to say, “karma is a bitch, son.” Once I hit thirty I became more self conscious of my belly. To ward of any possible collection of fat I would do obscene amounts of push-ups everyday and after a night of drinking a dozen beers I would fast the following day. I knew that with age comes a breakdown of bodily functions- and I wanted to meet this breakdown with the devotion of a man who is committed to eternal youth.
But the fat followed, despite my attempts to keep it away. My girlfriend at the time was shocked to see my normally non-existent skinny ass grow into a bit of a hump. There was something in the ass of my pants that had not been there before and for a few months I found my self confidence increase as I found myself getting more female attention (a man can not underestimate the power of an ass). All of my pants squeezed my swelling butt into a particular position that made it look more appealing to the eye. This, of course is the optical illusion of tight pants, because when I took off my pants and looked at my butt in the mirror I was concerned to see the collection of what appeared to be two mounds of sagging fat. I was only mildly concerned at first but as I continued to gain my weight in my rear end and not in my stomach- I started to think that something was seriously wrong.
Of course, I never considered quiting beer. Beer for me has always been a form of medication (and meditation) that I am not sure that I can live without. I realize the alcoholic implications of saying that I need to drink beer, but I rationalize my beer drinking by telling myself and others that not only is beer low in alcohol content but I also drink only top quality artisanal ale. However, I am getting to the point where my rationalizations are no longer working for me. My ass has gotten so large that I am constantly in a state of discomfort. Not only do I look ridiculous but I have become an aberration- a freak. I am almost certain that if I continue drinking beer I will end up in one of those Diane Arbus type picture books of oddities. The doctor that I have visited has told me that I have a strange chromosomal “mismatching disorder,” which causes fat to collect in my rear rather than my stomach. I am told that this often happens to women, not men, and the doctor seems to think that I have incorrectly acquired a female chromosome that has caused this ailment to occur. I have indeed always prided myself on being a man who is connected with his feminine side- but this seems to be to extreme of a price to pay.
So, I will make two major New Year’s resolutions for 2009. The first one will be to take up a very serious meditation practice (even though sitting on the meditation cushion with my beer butt has become very uncomfortable for me). I want to really develop the skill to be fully present in my life without any worry, fear, dis-satisfaction and hopelessness. I want to be able to take control of my thoughts rather than having my thoughts control me. I no longer want to judge myself for the man that I have become and I want to be able to accept my butt for exactly what it is- big, strange and a pain in the ass. The second New Year’s resolution that I will make is to significantly cut back on my beer drinking. I have been perpetually escaping from my discomfort by drinking beer for almost twenty five years now. Like every vice will eventually do, my beer drinking habit has caught up with me and literally bit me in the ass. As much as I enjoy the inebriated state, the physical repercussions of my vice out weigh the pleasurable attributes. I am aware that it will not be easy to drastically decrease the amount of beer that I consume, but I believe that fear is the greatest motivator. I am terrified that my butt will get to a weight where I can no longer stand or fit through a door. I am aware that in my youth I always made fun of people who suffered from an obese disposition and now in my middle age, I can not get my grandfathers nagging words out of my head, “karma is a bitch, son.”