Me and Natasha: Excerpt

Context: My ass was named Natasha by a childhood friend of mine because it is so big it was its own person.

Assess are useful, so I will never call anyone who made me feel like shit as a teenager an ass. I will, however, call them everything else. Natasha was not the only part of my body that attracted attention, but she was the star of the show. Frankly, even I was just supporting cast, especially to teenage boys and men.

Whenever I discuss trauma concerning my body, people often state it could have been worse. It's not like they were staring at my breasts or groped me. However, no twelve-year old should be so insecure about her own body, especially when she has no control over it. Catcalling should never be the norm, much less when you are a child.

I remember the day I realized I had a butt, before Natasha was Natasha. Logically, I had known I had a butt. I sat on it every day. However, I had not realized it was different than other girls', much less in the seventh grade. I hadn't realized my body was changing. I was just trying to get through to art class. Though I was enthusiastic, my hands never quite did what I wanted them to.

In all honesty, I had never noticed this boy before. I was too busy staring at Kyle in the table across from me. Kyle with the pretty blond hair and brown eyes. Kyle who I gave a ball to in fifth grade because he was cute and who made the angels sing and, more importantly, helped me realize why the hell everyone went on and on about boys.

I liked him, but I was too young to know what to do about it. So, I stared at him and bantered and teased. I wanted him to think I was pretty and charming. I wanted his attention the same way he had drawn mine two years before.

In some ways, I did receive it.

The day I realized I had a butt, I walked to get art supplies. The boy looked me up and down. He stared at my butt as he spoke, not even bothering to make eye contact. He was talking to Natasha, not me. "Damn girl, you're fine."

My heart skipped a beat and there was ringing in my ears. Like a cornered cat, I reacted on instinct. "Ew."

The comment was deafening, but maybe that was my own perception. My teacher never said anything. She would have said something had she noticed... Right?

I practically ran to my table. It was my safe haven. The interaction was over and I wouldn't have to deal with the discomfort anymore.

I didn't realize this would be the first of many situations. He would follow me around the art room, harassing me, making comments. Trying to get my number, trying to get my attention. Mentioning my body. My bully made comments as well. Suddenly, it wasn't just that I was fat or had greasy hair or burgeoning acne or was too nerdy for my own good. I also had a big ass.

Kyle never said it to my face, but, apparently, he noticed too. My body didn't feel like my own anymore. It was a commodity for everyone to point and stare at. No one stood up for me.

I wore sweaters around my waist for the next seven years in hopes of hiding Natasha. I didn't wear skirts for the next decade. I never cared how hot it was outside. I didn't want to be seen.

Of course, it never stopped.