Inside thoughts

I want you to write poetry about my ass.

Why does it seem like no one wants an absolutely ridonkulus ass anymore? I fear our priorities as women are out of whack. With the rise of “thin is in” and GLP-1s rotting everyone’s brains, I’m starting to think that asses might be… out of style? Body types should never be a trend, but they are, and I will not conform. My goal in life is to have the juiciest, curviest, perkiest ass. I want an ass that’s borderline vulgar. I want an ass that makes people uncomfortable. I want men, women, and children to blush when I walk past them. I want rappers to write songs about my ass. I want my husband to sweat with anxiety every time I leave the house alone because he’s worried about how many men are going to be staring at dat assssss everywhere I go.

Now that I’ve lost a bit of weight, I can’t help but notice how differently men are treating me. Not “omg dat ass” different, but I didn’t realize how invisible I was before. Men barely held the door for me or looked me in the eyes when I was 35 pounds heavier. But now that I’m smaller (but still technically considered obese lol), they’re starting to get creepy again. I forgot what it felt like to be scared of men all the time. I can’t go for a walk without getting eye-fucked by creepy construction workers or being honked at by random men in cars. It makes me wonder if a subconscious fear of being seen by weirdos is what’s made it so difficult to keep weight off my entire life. When you’ve been getting sexually harassed since age 11, having a hot body just doesn’t feel worth it. Maybe this is why I don’t have a juicy ass yet. I’m too afraid! Remind me to look into self-defense classes. I can’t let this dream die.

At 35, I’m starting to feel some of the regrets about the experiences in life I haven’t had. I know I’m still young and I have time to do some things, like traveling the world and finally learning how to ride a bike. Lol, don’t ask. But there are other things that just can’t happen once you reach a certain age. For some people, that could be the unrealized goal of becoming a professional athlete or never doing a semester abroad in college. For me, it’s the sad fact that I never had a slutty job.

When I say “slut” or “slutty,” it’s a term of endearment. I’ve reclaimed it for myself. I deeply, deeply regret not having a slutty — or slut-adjacent — job in my 20s. What’s a slutty job, you ask? It’s a job where you’re hired based on your level of hotness. Think Hooters server, go-go dancer, bottle girl, promotional model — any job where you can make cash tips from smiling and showing your cleavage. Sure, a lot of those jobs involve being objectified, but you can laugh your way to the bank and evade taxes at the same time. Sounds like a win-win to me. I, instead, spent my twenties working my way up the ladder in the beauty industry and being slutty for free. I mourn the life I never had.

Don’t get me wrong, life is good. Better than it’s been in a while. Uh-oh, you know what that means! The devil on my shoulder is all, be a psycho, burn it all down, babe.

Life is so good and calm right now that it makes me want to be love-bombed and/or recruited into a cult so badly. Have you ever felt that way? I think back to the time I was recruited into an MLM, and the women in my upline had me believing I’d made friends for life. I couldn’t wait to travel the country attending seminars. I dreamed of the day I’d finally “earn” my red Mustang. It was all motivational conference calls and vision board parties until I didn’t sell anything and went $3,000 into debt. But it was so fun while it lasted. I felt so alive.

If you’re not stalking me yet, what are you even doing? Find me on Instagram @kristina_nasti and Tiktok Kristina Nasti