Ode to My Anus

I pulled a muscle in my ass today. It doesn't sound so bad to just say it, but when you've actually gone ahead and done it, it haunts you. I can't sleep, I can't walk up stairs, and I tried walking it off but that only made it worse. A pain in the ass -- who woulda thought, you know? I mean, you throw your back out and that's saying something. But being slowed down by a muscle in your ass? How can I even face the world?

I guess maybe this is just payback. I had it coming. All these years I haven't appreciated or even acknowledged the presence or support my ass has provided through the thick and thin, and this is the only wake-up call it is capable of giving. Well dammit, I'm the kind of man who recognizes when he’s misstepped (see any of my stories about this). I'm not too proud to step up and apologize. Even if it's to my own ass. So, ass, this is for you.

Ass, I'm a fool. I've neglected you. You clearly have starved for my attention, and what do I do? I look the other way. I'm so wrapped up in my business that I consider you an "inconvenience." I joke about you, label you as a punchline. I sit down really hard and I don't even feel bad about it. Occasionally I even close things with you. I know. Like I don't have hands. I make fun of proctologists and their choice of a profession that caters to the anus. I laughed at Uranus jokes, no matter how lame and grossly unfunny they were, just to feel more like everyone else. I cursed your existence, your purpose, and your stuuuupid crack. Oh and sometimes I sit on sharp things, and I know that can't be good for you.

Was it worth it?

I've been a royal asshole. No offense.

Forgive me.

I thought I was pretty hot shit. You know what that's like. I got so swept up in popular opinion, fart jokes, and Family Guy that I simply stopped taking you seriously. And that's where I was wrong. You may be "just an ass," but you're an ass nonetheless, god dammit. You are one of the top 50 most important body parts I have, and, yes, I'm placing you just above the coccyx for once. When was the last time I looked you square in the eye and said, "Hey ass, um, thanks for all that cushiony padding. It's been a long day and you really make me forget that I'm sitting on a rock hard surface"? When have I even mentioned that thing you do in khakis? You know, those dark, well-fitting ones that get me looks all the time. Yeah, those. It goes unsaid.

Ass, on behalf of myself and all of my 2000 parts, I’m sorry.

You may think I'm just writing this in hopes of a voodoo miracle, that placating you will cause the dull pain in my ass to miraculously subside. And, in fact, that's exactly why I'm writing this. But it’s also to apologize. Cause I went overboard. And now I feel your pain.