Some people might put it down to my being thin. I’m one of Pharaoh’s lean kind, as my Nan would have said. I’ve always been slim. No excess fat. No padding. No upholstery.
The package is the product.
But by all the gods of DFS I cannot sit on a park bench for more than 30 seconds before my butt starts killing me.
I mean, real got-to-scoot-about-a-bit-right-now-before-my-buttocks-implode agonizing pain.
Is this normal? Is it just me? Because I am very aware that there other people – kids, young mums, oldsters, etc – who all hang around the park and seem able to deposit their derrieres onto the benches for upwards of an hour at a time and sit there smiling and laughing as if they have just immersed their assorted buns into a giant vat of soothingly cool Nivea skin cream.
They don’t fidget or grimace or wish they’d brought some kind of floatation device.
So there must be a marked difference between their butts and mine. It doesn’t come down to trunk size or the firmness of the pillows... ‘cos some of those old folks are so skeletal they’re in danger of falling between the slats.
Somehow my buttocks are missing the comfort chromosome; the rest-easy gene.
Park benches must obey some kind of ergonomic design plan but I seem to be the exception to that particular rule. My butt is outside their design envelope. My pert cheeks are in ergonomic exile.
I am plainly not meant to take a comfort break in a park or ever, ever be seated in one.
Harrumph!
It’s really not fair.
And the police wonder why I hide in the bushes...
24 comments:
A sensitive issue that deserves serious consideration.
Pillow? Cushion? Yoga mat? Knee pads in back pockets?
Implants?
Transplant? (lend me your rear and I'll...)
John: Broadbottom by name...? I quite like the idea of implants. I'll have Katie Price's please.
You're not one of those boney-arsed types that can be seen cycling round these parts of a weekend, sporting those extremely unflattering lycra jobs which leave nothing to the imagination when viewed from the front and persist in riding two-abreast, even though the line of built-up traffic is crawling behind at 10mph but still the assinine and arrogant fools refuse to budge over to let you overtake them, are you?The phenomenon seems to have got worse since the Olympics.....sheesh!
Nana Go-Go: no. I'm the guy afoot strutting my stuff about town like John Travolta at the start of Saturday Night Fever. Only without the tin of paint.
You've got irritable arse syndrome. It's a condition suffered by arses that sit down on benches and expect to be pampered. The arse must learn that the world doesn't revolve around it and it's job is to provide comfort rather than receive it.
Gorilla Bananas: provide comfort for who? The owner of the arse or an as yet unnamed third party?
you are just getting OLDERaging = having a boney arse!simples!
John: yes, but I've always had a boney arse!
Well, whatever you do, don't fly to Philadelphia for implants in a hotel room like the young lady from England who died a couple of years ago shortly after having industrial grade silicon injected in her butt. Some people will go to great lengths to pad their posterior or bloat their buttocks... all so more finnicky folks fascinated by flesh will cheer their cheeks...
Ah! So you intend to produce this blog post in evidence...
I have quite enough cushioning in my backside, it's my boney elbows and forearms that give me grief. Unnaturally, disproportionately boney and lacking in padding. In the same manner that you prefer to lurk in the bushes over taking a seat on a park bench, I can't rest my elbows on the table for any length of time. How can I sit holding my Steve in esteemed wonder, cupping my face with my hands and batting my eyelids with all that pain going on?
I like Gorilla Bananas' wisdom on this one.
Owen: if I wanted silicon in my butt I'd shove an iPad down my pants.
The fly in the web: ...along with a photocopy of my butt.
Being Me: unfortunately I have boney arms too so I guess a swap of merchandise is out of the question...
Love your arse. Sit on the grass.
I too have boney arse syndrome but still manage to park it on benches for more than ten minutes. Maybe your problem is something to do with cheek spread resulting in the boney bits not being so protected?
Oh...and I thought you said you were a pain in the arse, not you have a pain....I suggest you travel with cushion...
John Broadbottom, Irritable Arse Syndrome, Buttock Implants - thanks for this post it has set me up for the weekend!!
I would love to have this problem! lol. Surely you should carry around a pillow so you can sit on hard park benches. Why don't you crochet one.....?
Keith: sit on your bum disguise a hum.
Trish: are you saying that I spread my cheeks too much? How very dare you!
Nota Bene: I'll need to get a bigger man-bag.
Suzanne: hope your fun doesn't bottom out too soon.
Emma: because crocheting is best performed whilst in the sitting down position...
Loving these comments! I suggest you wrap a sweater round your waist, (or even better - round your shoulders) and use it as a cushion for that bony arse of yours.
Expat Mum: I may just wrap a Vegas love-bed around my waist and have done with it.
Tried sitting on your hands?
Libby: funnily enough that's what Keeley Hawes' prosecuting lawyer suggested to me only the other day.
I take it you don't ride a bike then?
On the other hand they've developed those gel pads for hard saddles nowadays - you could shove one down your jeans and then you'd have both a fatter ass (buttock implant style) and a comfy sit on the bench - all for about ten quid.
Perhaps I should market the idea... on second thoughts...
The Bike Shed: imagine the looks I'd get if I inserted them round the front...
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