Your butt matters

How long have I being going to the gym? I think more than twenty five years.
I started by practicing rhythmic gymnastics: I can still remember that tiny gym and miss Funghini, the woman with the straightest back I have ever seen. I was still going to elementary school, so the main topics running in the changing room were Barbie dolls and the best technique to wash their hair: on the sink or on a bowl full of water and New Dimensions (my favorite shampoo during on time)?
When I moved to the palasport with some other girls, I was already a little older; the first pimples started popping up on my skin, and during that time the main topics were boobs (they were bigger than they are now) colors, bras, but also gymnastics and
random injustices received by the teacher or by some other girls.
Once I moved from Arezzo to Firenze, I stopped going to the gym – but I focused my attention on going to the swimming pool. Here changing rooms have their own rules: those who go swimming usually are not that talkative. When I ended up in Milan, I picked a place that could offer me many different things: gym, swimming pool, steam bath and Turkish bath.
Many women connect going to the gym straight to their butt: they look at each other’s butt, they look at it in the mirror, they allow other people to look at it. End of the story.
To me, it became a mania: observing how many women look at each other’s ass, and then complaining about the fact that “hey, that guy would not stop looking at my ass”.

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The most exciting moment comes when I find those girls who become just like Meryl Streep in “Death Becomes Her”, turning their neck completely in order to check their ass in the mirror, jumping here and there to get a better visual of their shadows of cellulite and then, when they see me, they move so fast that not even Kill Bill would be faster, and they immediately pretend to go to the toilet, feeling ashamed of their absurdity.
Some girls even pretend to take a piss, and they even flush the toilet.

But there are many things that fascinate me about changing rooms: people’s outfits and their topics.
Their outfit, of course, comes with their main interest: their ass. So, of course, wearing leggings and hot pants is a must have, along with tops (just a top), as if wearing a t-shirt could actually bother you.
Once I tried to wear a pair of leggings and a short t-shirt, and I jumped on the treadmill to witness what I already knew would happen: no matter what kind of ass you have, everyone will stare at it.

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That was the first and the last time that I wore a short t-shirt at Virgin.
Then there are lipstick-plasters, mascara-cements and irreversible-glitters, that you should bring along whenever you go, from the treadmill to the swimming pool, including to the steam bath.
And if back in the time there were Barbie dolls, bras, pimples and the first monthly periods, now all you talk about is butts, diets, surgery, unfaithful relationships and work.
Sometimes I think that I have the arrogance to say that practicing sport it’s not just about looking good, but it is about finding your inner balance, for gods sake. Sometimes I wish that everyone should wear simple pants and a normal t-shirt when they go to the gym, but some other times I realize that I might be a little too “nazi”.
It’s weird: before moving to Milan I had no idea about this whole ass-issue. I never spoke about it with my mom, my grandma, nor my friends.
And every time I go back home from the gym, I always ask myself two simple questions:
1. How is it possible for butt cheeks to get bad?
2. Being beautiful after turning 30 means knowing that you managed to get to that point with and thanks to your butt. You can take care of it though sport and food, but it is what it is. And you gotta keep it.


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